The Banshee in Question
by Persephone Summerwick
Summary: Spiraling into depression after Allison's death, Lydia seeks solace in Stiles and Scott, but they're so involved with Malia and Kira that they don't see it. She not only struggles with her jealousy of Malia and Stiles, but this unbelievable loss taking its toll. When a new man moves into town and peaks Lydia's interest, she finds herself in a dangerous game of very real stalking.
1. Troubled Times

**I've had this idea for a while now and have finally decided to follow through on it. The reaction to my idea on tumblr was so sweet that I knew I had to get the prologue out quickly. I really hope you enjoy the beginning, but be prepared that the fic might move kind of slowly in regards to Stiles and Lydia's relationship. Slow burn is the way to go. I apologize in advance for the Stalia and Lydia/OC, as you're going to hate it.**

**If you have time to, please review and let me know what you think! Not only are reviews inspiring with getting chapters out faster, but they make me feel like I'm doing something right.**

_Troubled Times_

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Prologue

Lydia ran her fingertips along the edges of the cardboard box situated on her lap, smoothing back the flaps slowly. She wasn't prepared for whatever was inside; that much she was sure of. She sucked her lips into her mouth anxiously, dilated eyes flickering over the label with a shudder of her heart. "_For Lydia_" was neatly written in Allison's calligraphy. A fist seized her heart and tears rimmed her eyelashes with a sudden ferocity as she pondered the implications of what opening this box meant. Her eyes glazed as she thought of the exchange she and Chris Argent just had.

_"She was putting together a box of memories of the two of you as a Christmas present," Chris told her gruffly, scratching his chin as he studied the young girl's quizzical expression._

_ "Why?" She drawled, carefully lifting her eyes to meet those of her dead friend's father. They were severely lacking emotion, especially for someone whose daughter died six weeks ago. He was good at hiding that sort of thing, she could tell. All part of the hunting business; it must be._

_ "Because she loved you," If Lydia was breathing before; she was choking on oxygen now. She swallowed a harsh intake of air along with the lump in her throat. This man, someone she hardly speaks to, should be the last person to see her get blubbery, especially when it was over his own daughter. Lydia scolded herself; whatever she may be feeling was nothing compared to his pain._

_ Noticing the inner turmoil mixed into her long period of silence, Chris placed the box gently on her dresser. He cleared his throat to clear the tension caused by her sudden wave of sadness before speaking, "I'll just leave this here."_

_ Lydia nodded slowly, not trusting her voice. She kept her eyes trained toward the floor and her face turned partly away until the werewolf hunter finally made his exit, the wooden flooring creaking beneath his heavy boots._

Now she was sitting here, brave front all but vanished, far too anxious about opening a box than any one person should ever be. If she told herself it was going to be okay, maybe it would be. Maybe every other problem invading her noisy lifestyle would fade into nothingness if she just pretended they weren't there. Suddenly hesitant, Lydia quickly moved the box from her lap onto the bed as if it had burned her. If she was going to ignore the rest of her problems, she should start with the box. Why bring back painful memories?

A fresh pain sliced her heart. There was nothing painful about the beautiful moments she shared with Allison. Every little moment she tried so hard not to take for granted, but somehow still felt she did.

This was too much pressure.

Lydia's decision was made for her when her cellphone began buzzing with an oncoming call from Scott. It was so _clearly_ a sign that she didn't need to open the box, at least not right now.

After shoving the offending object under her bed, she answered with a mock-cheery voice laced with enthusiasm, "Hey!"

"Be ready in five minutes, I'm picking you up."

This time, she didn't have to fake her excitement. Spending time with Scott still managed to guarantee a good time – at least when it was just them. "Where are we going?" She spun to face her closet, already having an internal monologe about possible choices. It all depended on the destination.

Her face fell when she heard the uncontrollable feminine giggling in the background of Scott's car. He wasn't alone. "Scott?"

"What - ? Sorry, Kira's trying to tickle me while I'm _driving, _like a MANIAC!" Lydia could picture him turning to Kira and jokingly directing his "anger" at her, a goofy grin on his face that should be there all the time. Kira was good for Scott, that much Lydia knew. She just wished she didn't feel so… _third wheely_. "Oh and Stiles and Malia are here too!" _fifth wheely…_

"Hi!" "Hey hey!" Came Stiles and Malia's shouts from what Lydia assumed to be the backseat. It was more than likely they were taking Scott's new car, as it had quickly but surely become his true love.

"That's nice," Lydia muttered with a frown. "Where are we going?" She didn't even want to bother anymore, but she'd already expressed an interest in going. Who knows; maybe she'll even have a good time? If she was going to start pretending things didn't bother her, she'd have to act like her post-Allison's death anxiety didn't exist anymore either. According to basic psychology, if you force yourself to smile, you can trick your brain into thinking you're happy. Lydia forced her lips to lift upwards, but felt stupid, so she instead decided psychology was overrated.

"The movies! We could all use a night off." _Great, the perfect place to fifth wheel_.

"Nothing scary," Lydia asked rhetorically, all but telling him she wouldn't stand for it. She had enough voices in her head as it was. They all suffered from nightmares, and if Scott was smart enough he'd say –

"**No**," he told her firmly. "Comedy all the way."

Lydia nodded, pressing her fingers to her plump scarlet lips. "Okay, I'll be down in two minutes."

"Don't keep us waiting!" Scott told her as he hung-up, leaving Lydia to drown in her closet for another five minutes before she found a simple dress that would bring out her glowing skin and bright strawberry head of hair.

Lydia left her house with a bounce in her step, her hair swinging behind her with a matching peppy expression adorning her face. Judging by the oblivious looks on their faces, she was doing a good job of keeping up appearances. As per usual, she was keeping her emotions to herself, because it was easier for them all. Granted, Scott and Stiles weren't anxious to share their innermost thoughts, but they at least acknowledged them. Lydia pushed her thoughts away as she pulled open the backdoor to Scott's car.

"Pippi Longstocking!" Scott teased.

Lydia was about to insult him, but was caught off guard by the proximity of Stiles and Malia.

Malia's hands were splayed on the seat beside her, completely still as Stiles' hand covered hers, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand and swirling it over a small beauty mark near her thumb.

This was a new development; an entirely completely 100% new development. Since when were they a thing? Lydia shook her head at them, pausing in the open door of the car. As always, no one noticed that she hadn't even gotten in yet. Kira and Scott were rock-paper-scissoring (there has to be a shorter name for that) over which movie they would see.

Finally noticing the other girls hesitation, Malia and Stiles turned their heads to look toward Lydia and followed her shocked line of sight. They immediately jumped apart, pulling their hands away like a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar. Stiles' face was beat red; he sank into his seat sheepishly, the polyester material squeaking.

Scott glanced back toward his friends. "What are you waiting for, Lyds? Get in." He took in her flushed appearance. "Are you alright?" He frowned.

"Of course!" She chirped, climbing into the car beside Malia as if nothing had happened. She reached for her buckle, only sparing a look at Malia when locking it into its rightful position.

Scott looked to Kira for her input, wondering if he was the only one detecting a strangeness about Lydia today. She simply shrugged at him, offering a reassuring half-smile.

Malia exposed her teeth to Lydia, in a surprisingly friendly way, somehow having the social skill to pretend she hadn't done anything hand-holding like with Stiles in a similar fashion as Lydia was. "Your dress is cute."

Lydia was taken off guard by the werecoyote's compliment, as she'd never given her one before. In fact, she'd shown little to no interest in even getting to know her as a person. She didn't even seem to enjoy her presence.

"Thank you…"

"It would look _so _much better on _me_," Malia didn't even realize her words were insulting, moving her fingers to touch the hem of Lydia's dress without permission, testing the material. "This is cotton right? I never had cotton when I was a coyote. Now I love cotton! Stiles bought me a cotton pillow," Malia turned her head to Stiles happily, baring her teeth in a wide, almost innocent smile.

"How nice of him," Lydia managed out, her eyes burning a hole into the side of Stiles' skull. He stayed facing Scott's seat, squirming under her gaze.

The ride got progressively easier as time passed, and before long they were finding their seats in theater 12. Kira was holding the jumbo popcorn to be passed among the four of them (though it was mainly hers), already shoveling buttery pieces into her mouth.

Lydia realized she drew the short straw when she got the aisle seat, right beside Stiles. If she had to deal with his _hand holding_ problem during the entire movie, she was going to have to take more than a couple of bathroom breaks.

She didn't care that she was staring at him, or that if someone chose to look at her at that moment she'd look like a complete stalker. It wasn't like anyone really noticed her anymore either. Malia and Kira were shiny new pack members and the boys seemed to really like them.

Lydia's face twisted in revulsion as she watched him suck down his extra-large soda, greedily sucking the liquid through its too-large straw. He popped off its covering and sipped down the last few drops, shuffling a few large pieces of ice around in his mouth. When Lydia started wondering how cold his tongue was right now, she knew she had to get her mind off it,

"You drank that whole thing _already_?" Lydia gaped at him. "The previews started _two_ minutes ago."

Stiles slowly turned his head to make eye contact with her, moving so cautiously she wondered if he thought she was going to bite it off. Maybe he was still on edge from the car ride and his not-so sneaky relations with Malia. Lydia almost shook her head at herself; "relations" was not a good word to use. Her eyebrows knitted together as she considered the prospect. _Were _they having relations? Had they kissed? Her heart started beating more wildly as her thoughts got away from her. If they were cozy enough to just be _holding hands _then they must be at that point in whatever it is that they are. That point where you're comfortable…

"A man gets dehydrated after a long day's work." Lydia wanted to comment on the fact that he'd been hanging out with Scott all day, she wanted to brag about how she just so happened to know that soda would only further dehydrate someone who clearly needs water. Instead, his honey eyes were making her feel self-conscious. Why were they doing that?  
Stiles' eyes furrowed in concern, lowering his chin at her, "Lydia are you okay?"

"What?" She blinked several times, trying to collect herself while she still had the chance to recover from this loss. "Yeah, I guess I'm just a little dehydrated myself. I should've gotten water."

"Hm," he shook his cup of ice, hearing it rattle against the plastic. "I appear to be out of soda, so it looks like I need to take a trip back to the snack stand." He displayed his palm to her as if he were offering to eloquently take her hand. "Care to accompany me?"

Lydia tried to fight the urge to smile but it was unstoppable, as well as the pink hue of a blush ripening her cheeks. "What about –," she glanced toward Malia but didn't finish her question. She wasn't supposed to know about that. His smile began to disappear. "Okay, sure." It was back, and so was hers.

"We'll be right back," Stiles told their three friends, shaking his drink at them as he had with Lydia, "refills."  
Scott was annoyed, "Well hurry up, the movie starts in a few minutes!"

Stiles followed behind Lydia as she briskly exited theater 12, heading back down the hall they came through.

"Mind slowing down a tad there, Lyds?" He raised his brows at her as he finally caught up, now walking beside her.

"Sorry, every time I wear heels I strut."

"You only wear heels," Stiles told her pointedly. "Which I think is dumb by the way."

They moved to stand behind a pair of men on line, Lydia's eyes narrowing at his accusingly.

"Why is my expensive and excellent taste dumb to you? Do you know how badly I've damaged my feet to wear these things?"

"Easy there tiger," Stiles put his hands up defensively before continuing, "I just mean, why do you need to always wear heels? You can't just be comfortable in a pair of flats or sneakers or some other girly shoe that feels nice for your toes?"

Lydia smirked at his way of speaking before answering honestly, "Looking and feeling beautiful is… important to me."

"Now I know for a fact that you're not as smart as you think you are," Stiles told her with certainty, rocking on his feet as he waited for the cashier to finish with the family of three. He wasn't even facing her, as he already knew exactly what her face looked like right now.

"How do you figure?" She genuinely wanted to know what kind of jab he was going to make next. She'd probably be able to counter with something even slyer.

"Because…makeup? Shoes, dresses, skirts? Perfectly curled hair and perfume and long painted nails? It's material stuff," he dares look her in the eyes, seeing she's clearly still confused. "You take that all away and what's left?"

"I am," she whispered, mostly to herself, beginning to understand, though not in a way he particularly meant for her to.

Stiles heard anyway, his cheeks slowly dimpling as he gradually exposed his bright teeth in a wide smile. "And you're beautiful."

Her eyes lingered on his back as he finally took point at the front of the line, telling the man at the concession stand his and Lydia's orders. She heard him mutter a thanks, digging into his pockets for spare scraps of paper.

"Oh, I left my money in my purse," Lydia confessed, patting her pockets gently. She didn't want him to think she was ripping him off.

He offered her a strange look, like she was giving him useless information. "It's okay, I'm paying."

"I'll pay you back when we get back to the movie."

"Don't even worry about it." He received his change, shoving the quarters and dollar bills into a jumbled mess back in his pocket.

Lydia silently drank her water as they made their way back to their seats.

"Hey," Stiles whispered to Malia, seeing as the movie already started without him. The lights were dimmed now and Scott didn't even notice his friend's late arrival, too engrossed in the film and the way Kira's giggle caused his heart to clench.

"Hi," Malia murmured, her eyes flickering down to his lips when he swiped his tongue over them, moistening the surface and leaving a glistening sparkle on his bottom lip. There was so much she wanted to do with him in that moment, but kissing him in front of their pack would leave little to be left a secret. Although there was a very big chance Lydia had some idea about what was going on between the two of them, she didn't know how far it went. She didn't know that Malia took Stiles' virginity and it _connected_ them in some shape or form. They both wanted to explore what that meant, but during that "figuring it all out" beginning phase, it needed to just between them.

"What's on your mind?" Uttered Stiles, admiring Malia's thoughtful expression.

"You look good."

First, he looked confused; then surprised. It ended with his face jumping in happiness. "You too."

_Barf_. Lydia kept her chin in her right hand, elbow leaning against the armrest on the aisle's side. It was the farthest she could get from Stiles and his annoying flirtation with Malia that she could plainly hear. They were completely nauseating and they didn't even care.

Finding herself bored with the film, her eyes trailed away from the screen. Why did anyone like Adam Sandler, anyway? She didn't think he was funny. Her eyes stopped on a young man when she saw that he was already looking at her. His dark gaze involuntarily caused a shiver to run up her spine, but not in a bad way. He was good looking, but not intimidatingly so, his eyes brightly colored but gaze piercing and almost mysterious. It was in that moment that Lydia decided she wanted to know his name.

The corner of one side of his lips jumped upwards, a makeshift smirk being sent her way. Lydia didn't even bother to self-consciously scope the area and make sure that look on his face really was for her, because she just knew it was. The stranger moved his hand to run it over his bushy black hair, thickened and swept over. Then he offered a small wave.

Lydia inadvertently blushed, her eyelashes fluttering at him from across the aisle and a few rows back. She shook her hand at him responsively, discreetly holding it against her chest to prevent attracting the attention of her friends. She didn't need them to end this moment quite yet, as it was actually starting to turn her on. She almost frowned at herself. What kind of girl finds a hook up at a movie theater? It was only going to make her appear desperate. She turned her head away from the attractive gentlemen to focus her eyes on the screen, though her head was elsewhere. She wasn't going to give in just because he was cute, no way; besides, tonight was about friends, and if she ditched them that would be a questionable choice of action on her part. From the corner of her eye, she could see that he was still staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to meet his longing gaze.

"Want some?" Stiles' voice shook her out of her haze. She blinked at him. "Want some popcorn?" He repeated, holding the jumbo bucket outwards to her.

"Uhuh," she nodded at him, gracious for the distraction. Without acknowledging his shocked expression, she shoveled handfuls of the food into her mouth. Maybe that would turn away the stranger looking her way, maybe he'd just think she was some pig. She continued to force the popcorn into her mouth for another few moments.

"_Lydia!_" Kira's voice scolded. The redheaded girl turned to her left to see Kira leaning forward in her seat to make contact with her, just a few seats away. "Don't eat all of the popcorn," she snapped.

Embarrassed, Lydia handed it back to Stiles, who automatically continued the passing of it until it got back to Kira. His eyes were questioning hers, but he said nothing. By the time Lydia looked back where the stranger was sitting, there was no one there. She frowned as she realized he'd left. That was weird.

Lowering further into her seat, Lydia made herself comfortable as she realized there would be no escape at this point. It was her, her marginally oblivious pack, and Adam Sandler. God help her.


	2. BreakHands

**Thank you so much for your reviews! You're all total sweeties and if I could give each of you a cookie I would, but you'll have to settle for a new chapter instead. Your response truly makes all the difference and it's so incredible to get feedback from you guys!**

**Also, I just want to warn you guys, if you're especially sensitive this fic may not be for you, as it'll get pretty dark at some point and the material may get a bit heavy. It will probably stay within the T rating unless I'm otherwise convinced it needs to get darker.**

**If you'd like, follow me on tumblr and we can be buddies. My URL is Summerwick**

**In case you were wondering, each chapter's title derives from the title of the song that inspired its writing.**

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**_Break/Hands_**

Chapter 1

If there was any particular feeling Lydia hated most, it was the feeling of being weak. To be afraid, to beg for mercy, to have others sympathize for her. It was strange, because these days, she couldn't seem to get enough of that feeling. It made her loathe herself, and that felt necessary right now. The pain was the only thing that was real anymore, and Lydia knew she deserved it. She was guilty of so many things, unpunished for so many horrible things she'd done; like letting her best friend die. Knowing it was going to happen, trying to warn her friends but not obvious enough. If she'd just been a little clearer…

"Lydia, are you even listening to me?" She'd almost entirely forgotten that Kira was in her room.

Lydia shook herself out of her stupor. "What?"

"I swear, your head is always up in the clouds." Kira went back to playing with Lydia's green nail polish, running the wet brush along her pinky finger. She didn't even see the annoyed twist of Lydia's lips.

Her head was most certainly not in the clouds _always_, in fact, it was actually a new thing. She didn't expect Kira to realize that, as she hadn't been around all that long. The only people that should be realizing something was off about her hadn't an idea.

Of course, Lydia didn't bother saying as much. She genuinely liked Kira, but it wasn't like with Allison. It would never be like with Allison.

"Hey, what's this?" Kira asked curiously. "For Lydia?"

Lydia's head shot up, but she already knew what she was going to see before it did.

Kira shook the box, a heaviness cluttering around inside. "Is this a present from a guy?" Suddenly, Kira was entirely interested. "Who is he and can I open it!?" She rocked the bed excitedly, prepared to pull off the lid once Lydia gave her permission.

"No!" Lydia sprung up from her spot on the floor, prying the box from Kira's fingers and holding it to her chest protectively. They shared an intense gaze, Kira's shocked and offended while Lydia's was defensive and panicked.

There was no time for Kira to ask what the hell that was about because Scott had walked through the door, breaking the stillness of the room and oblivious to the tension that it just held.

"You ladies ready to go?" He was driving them to school today, but upon arriving at his friend's, realized he desperately needed to empty his bladder. While the girls hung out in Lydia's bedroom he took his sweet time in the bathroom, ultimately going to make them late for school.

Kira cleared her throat, eyes shuddering away from Lydia's, "Are we scooping up Malia?" She pulled at the threading of her long-sleeves, "She stole Donnie Russo's sandwich on the bus last time… I don't think she's ready to handle that 10 minute ride on her own."

"Stiles will take her," Scott relayed in the most obvious fashion he could seem to muster.

Lydia hid her grumble of disappointment. If it was so evident to Scott that Stiles would be looking after Malia, maybe their secret "thing" wasn't such a secret after all. Knowing their very close friendship, it made sense that Stiles would tell Scott about his _romantic_ feelings for the werecoyote. She'd never be connected with them the way they were with each other.

Remaining silent as she followed them out to Scott's car, her thoughts took her places far away from here and now. She'd always been someone with a lengthy train of thought, one that could wind and tangle into any complex jumble of word salad, but it didn't used to take her such dreary places. Her head was in a much darker room now, small and cramped and dark, like running your hands alone the cement walls of a cellar trying to find a light switch. Something to turn on the lights, to spark something within her that captivated her interest in anything that she could cherish that would appreciate her in the same way. She just wanted to feel wanted again, to feel like she was actually grounded on this plane and not caught in the clock tower that was her brain.

Lydia saw Stiles for the first time that day when she was fetching her science and history books from her locker. He was leaning his left side against the locker next to Malia's, where the werecoyote was getting her own things. He had a sly smirk on his lips, trailing his knuckles up and down Malia's left arm flirtatiously. She giggled lightly, glancing toward him appreciative of his ministrations.

Feeling her eyes water, Lydia forced herself to look away. She felt completely ridiculous. This was _Stiles Stilinski_ and he was no Romeo. Then again, Romeo wasn't a very good example. He was pretty much a wimp, undeserving of his name being used as a comparison to real men… Maybe Stiles _was_ Romeo.

Her manicured nails paused on the metal edging of her locker's door as she was consumed by her thoughts for the umpteenth time that morning. If she was like this already, she was surely going to be missing a few lessons today.

Daring to take one more look at Stiles and Malia, her heart lurched in her chest and her breath caught in her throat when she saw they were both already staring at her, quietly whispering as if they were talking about her. Suddenly self-conscious, Lydia focused her eyes on the contents of her locker without really seeing what was there. She needed to regain control of the situation, as it had already been stolen away. Her face was burning in humiliation, why were they talking about her?

She felt a rush of air, instinct telling her that someone was behind her. Lydia didn't have to turn around to know it was the boy she was trying so hard to let go of. A sense of foreboding filled her gut, expecting him to accuse her of something or say something against her. She wasn't sure why she thought he'd put her down, but the watchful glint in their eyes while he and Malia were whispering was far from reassuring. Lydia slowly turned to face him, forcing a half-assed smile.

"Hey," he greeted, loosely hanging onto two notebooks. "Have you seen Scott?"

"Scott?" She choked, having anticipated this to go differently. How could he go from looking so intense to so nonchalant? He switched facades like no other.

Stiles' eyebrows lowered, befuddled by the disoriented girl. "Yeah… Scott." He raises his right hand to hold flatly beside his head. "About 'ye high, always has a kicked puppy dog look in his eyes."

"Oh," she played along carefully. "That Scott," Lydia tapped her chin, using it as a moment to calm her nerves and get her thoughts back on track. "He drove me to school this morning, but I haven't seen him since."

"Probably in the broom closet with Kira," Stiles' lips upturned, boring his eyes into Lydia's, perverse possibilities filling the area. He waited for her to understand what he meant.

"You're disgusting, Scott wouldn't do that."

"_Oh_, he _would_," Stiles told her firmly, confidence resonating from his entire being. "And he has."

"I do _not_ need to know this…" Lydia cupped her ears, deafening herself from Stiles' graphic descriptions of the times their friend was previously in there. She knew he was talking about Allison, but was grateful that he didn't use her name.

"_What the fuck did you say to me_!?" A masculine voice boomed from nearby, immediately drawing the attention of the entire hall.

"Oh shit," Stiles muttered as he watched the scene unfold. He could plainly see Beacon Hills jock Blake Locke shoving at an entirely new guy that he'd never seen before, which was strange considering the smallness of their high school. The only logical explanation was that he was new. It looked like he wasn't making any friends either, as one of the biggest bullies in the school was already accusing him of offending his status as king of the high school hierarchy.

Stiles felt bad for the other boy and even considered _possibly maybe_ stepping in, but was completely caught off guard with how well the new student was taking Blake's aggressive behavior. He was just standing there, entirely bored, his hands in his pockets as he peered uninterested at the bulky muscled teen from under his eyelashes.

Lydia was having her own crisis, a prickling running up and down her arms and legs as recognition hit her full force. It was the boy from the theater; he was here at Beacon Hills High. Was he new? Had she just never noticed him? None of that really mattered right now, because he was about to be an extremely flattened new student.

Blake shoved the other teen, trying to get him to hit first, "Come on fight me, punk! You're not gonna disrespect me, _fight me!_" His short sleeves rode up his shoulders, arms flexing as his fists raveled in his victim's shirt.

"Don't touch me," the quieter crystal-eyed teen mumbled, only loud enough for Blake to hear. The rest of the hall watched curiously, cheering Blake on as the intensity of the situation arose. A few passer-by's shook their heads in disapproval, heading for the nearest classroom to alert a teacher.

"Are you a little pussy?" The bully whispered, his onion breath shadowing his victim's face, though he did not react.

"I said–," in one quick flush of motion, the victim turned the situation on its head as he veered them both against the locker, slamming his aggressor's face against the metal combination lock and allowing it to cut the bridge of his nose. He slammed his head one last time before allowing him to drop to the tile half-conscious, pressing his palm flat against his face. "**Don't TOUCH me**." He spat at Blake's still form as he rose, satisfaction eating him alive.

"Mr. Easley!" A male teacher screeched, storming through the crowd of fleeting teens with his upper lip stiffened at the new student. His eyes widened as he saw Blake on the tile. "Dear god, someone get the nurse now!" He shouted, gaining the attention of another few teachers who immediately went for help. The teacher knelt beside Blake, trying to wake him.

Within a few minutes the hall had mostly cleared, as most students were looking to avoid getting in trouble for cheering the grappling pair on. Stiles and Lydia trailed behind, as she managed to convince him that they should explain that the fight wasn't his fault. He really was only defending himself.

Stiles had bought into it, but Lydia knew why she really wanted to stay behind. Sure, he _did _need someone to defend his case, but mostly, she just wanted to look into his eyes again and see the desire that was there when she first saw him last night. If she could just recapture that moment, it would make her feel sexy again. And then she could let the stranger go and move on with her life. That's _all_.

"Stilinski, should I be surprised that you're in the middle of this?" A very annoyed assistant principal demanded, hands on her hips as she narrowed her eyes at the troublesome teen.

"What?" Stiles appeared offended. "I didn't do anything!"

"As shocking as it may be, he's telling the truth," Lydia understood the woman's assumption. "We just wanted to tell you that we saw what happened, and…" she pointed at the teen explaining the situation to police officer, "**he** is not the responsible one here. Blake attacked him out of nowhere and he was protecting himself."

The assistant principal stood straighter. "Would you be willing to tell that to the police?"

"Please do," another voice chimed in.

Lydia bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood. It was _him_. His voice was sleek and smooth, an attracting sweetness in it that almost sounded trusting. She slapped herself mentally, realizing how trite her thoughts were becoming. She was most certainly not that kind of girl.

He approached the group of people in a friendly way, his right hand gripping the strap of his backpack sling. His jet-black hair was slick under the cheap fluorescents of the hallway, making it appear shiny and gelled. He wore a long-sleeve shirt, mostly grey except for the sleeves, the same shade as his hair. His jeans were baggy and dark, and if it weren't for his lack of makeup or extreme hairstyle, he almost looked like what some might call a Goth.

He was most certainly not Lydia's normal type of guy to go after, but she needed something new in her life. A fresh experience from someone who could be anyone, but nothing else mattered as long as he wanted her. She needed somewhere to just _be_, she needed company that knew she was there. Lydia chewed on her lower lip as she once again realized the negative turn of her thoughts the moment it happened. Was this what it was like to hate yourself?

Lydia phased back into the conversation, hearing the tail end of whatever the assistant principal was telling the boy whose first name she still didn't know, "…-and we'll see where it goes from there, okay?"

"Completely, thanks Mrs. H." He spoke to her as if he knew her on a personal level, an appreciative smile lifting his face.

"Thank me later when it really comes back to bite me." She gestured to Lydia and Stiles with her index finger. "You better be thanking your lucky stars you made yourself some new friends here, or Blake's parents would certainly press charges." Leaving it at that, the assistant principal made her way back to the police, leading them to her private office. Other than the three teens, the hallway was now bare.

Stiles and Lydia exchanged glances before returning their hard stares to the newcomer.

"I'm Calvin." He extended his hand to whoever would take it. Stiles took it first, offering a friendly shake.

"Stiles, where do you fair from?"

"West Virginia."

"Ever seen the moth man?" Stiles joked.

"Once or twice," Calvin spoke without any indication that he was kidding, his expression solid and still.

Something about not what he said-but the way he said it made Stiles very uncomfortable. He shifted in his position before speaking simply, "Uh... Okay."

Calvin's eyes switched to Lydia, and his eyes sparkled at her sharp intake of breath. "I don't think you said your name."

"It's Lydia." At least she sounded calm.

"The worshipper," he interjected.

Stiles and Lydia shared in their confusion, so Calvin expanded.

"Lydia was a biblical figure; a saint." Calvin's eyes scoped Lydia's form, studying her. "She opened her heart to her god and gave it to him. She worshipped everything that he was and followed through with his plans for her without question. She trusted in him more than herself, because she knew that he knew what was best for her."

It was quiet for a moment, and Stiles wondered if he was the only one who realized how fucking creepy this guy was. Either way, he didn't want to stick around, "Uhh… Lydia, don't we have to go to class?"

"Yeah," she agreed softly, her eyes not leaving Calvin's. His did not leave hers either. Despite deciding to follow Stiles' lead, she did not move a single step.

"So let's go," Stiles asserted, touching her arm to insistently pull her away. He wanted to be anywhere but near the strange new student, as even his blinking was in some way intimidating.

Finally relenting, Lydia tore her eyes away from Calvin's and allowed Stiles to lead her back down the hall.

Once he was sure they could no longer be heard, Stiles' head whipped around to face her. "What the _hell_ was that about?"

"What?" Lydia judgmentally quipped, rolling her eyes at him.

"That guy was a creep show and you were eating it up."

"I think he's sweet," she told him with a shrug.

"Sweet?" He forced her to stop walking, placing a hand on one of her shoulders. "Sweet? Lydia, _sweet_?"

"Yes, Stiles," she affirmed. "Nice. Friendly. Kind. _Sweet_." Tossing her hair around to smack against his lips, she sauntered away from him with heavily clicking heels. He was not about to judge her for being attracted to Calvin when he was going to lower himself to Malia's standards. There was no way in hell he got to be a hypocrite about this.

x-x-x

Kira loved kissing Scott. Not only was he so soft and warm, but so caring and loving while he did it. His hand would cup the back of her head; his finger would trail underneath her chin to pull her toward him, where he would then press her upper lip to the center of both of his to trap her there, tracing his tongue lightly along her lips. It drove her crazy when he did that.

"Wait." Kira pulled back for a moment, opening her eyes to see Scott's questioning hers in the dark. "Never mind," She pulled back for more, her boyfriend's eyes not drifting closed as they had every other time she stopped them abruptly.

His kissing was so perfect, but right now she just couldn't get into it. And he could tell.

Scott tugged the string, lighting up the closet with a flickering bulb, "Okay, that's the fourth time you've pulled away in as many minutes. Is something bothering you?" He cupped a hand on her elbow, her hands pressed against his collarbones.

"_No_," she lied unconvincingly, her eyes circling the closet in avoidance, a tell-all when it came to Kira lies.

"_Ki-ra_," he sang, telling her that he could see through her excuses.

She dropped her hands pathetically. "Promise you won't tell Lydia."

Scott's neck jumped back in surprise. He thought the issue was Kira-Scott related, not a friend thing. She couldn't kiss him because she was worried about Lydia? "Why? What's going on?" Scott couldn't promise that Lydia wouldn't find out that Kira told him if the girl was in real trouble. He would have to do something about it.

"This shouldn't bother me… But it does." she sighed, "and it's probably nothing, but I can't get it out of my head."

"Just tell me what happened," Scott soothed. It was probably some girl-related spat that she was overthinking. He knew that Kira easily got her feelings hurt, as she was extremely sensitive. He was also aware that Lydia occasionally forgot to use tact when speaking and often offended people with her straightforwardness. It was possible that whatever was on Kira's mind was very minor.

"When you were in her bathroom for like ten years…" Scott blinked. "I found this shoebox of stuff under her bed. There was a little note on it that said 'For Lydia' and I asked her if a guy bought some stuff for her and if I could look at it, you know? I just wanted to see if he bought her any cool things, I really wasn't trying to invade her privacy." Kira frowned. "I just wanted to hear her talk about some awesome new guy in her life. She needs it." Getting off-track, Kira quickly continued her story. "Anyways, she practically ripped the thing from my hands and shouted at me."

"She did?" When Kira nodded in confirmation, he pondered this. It was definitely an extreme reaction, but this _was_ Lydia they were talking about. "I mean…" Scott rubbed the back of his neck as he figured out a way to explain this and cheer her up at the same time. "Lydia's a complicated person." It came out easy and he was proud, but Kira's pouty lower lip and concerned wrinkle in her forehead told him to continue. "She's a bit wacky and kind of freaks out about stuff, but that's just who she is. You really can't take it personally."

"I don't think it was a banshee thing, Scott."

"I don't either! It's really just her personality, I promise." Scott's voice lowered. "And she _has_ been through a lot lately with losing…" he stopped himself from saying her name. "It's been rough."

"I know," Kira whispered. "For all of you."

Scott's head shot up. "It's been hard for you and Malia too, Kira. Don't forget about that, either."

"We weren't close to Allison," Kira answered with regret.

"I didn't mean with Allison. You've both had to adjust to being new to this school, you've had to deal with your powers and learning the truth about your mom and Malia's literally been thrust into a world she barely understands."

Kira's heart swelled with joy, because even through his own pain, he still recognized the fact that she had pain too. He was way too perfect.

They were interrupted by the ringing of the bell.

"I guess we should go now," Scott droned in disappointment.

"It's okay." Kira smiled back at him as she gripped the doorknob. "Same time tomorrow?"

"And at lunch today, just because we didn't get enough kissage this time."

"Okay," Kira said with a laugh, waving at him as she made her way toward her next class.

Stiles appeared beside Scott, judgment written across his face. "_kissage_, Scott? Really?" He bowed his head at him. "You're really gonna stoop to that level?"

Scott pushed aside his embarrassment, because Stiles just didn't understand. His feelings for Kira ran deeper than shame. "Shut up."

x-x-x-x

Lydia didn't anticipate Scott and Kira's late arrival to the parking lot after school. He was supposed to drive her home, school had ended 20 minutes ago, and he was nowhere in sight. If they show up just for her to find out that Scott and Kira were fooling around under the bleachers somewhere, she was going to pop a gasket.

The rain was beating down violently and Lydia was soaking wet. After sending Scott fifteen texts and calling him seven times, she couldn't wait any longer, so she started walking. If he'd given her some kind of warning, she could have taken the bus or even asked Stiles for a lift; anything other than standing outside in the freezing rain in a small dress, jean jacket and a pair of very destroyed heels. It was minutes later that she was bare footed, and she had realized how cheap the material of her shoes really was.

"_I am gonna kill him_," Lydia grumbled angrily to herself, tears running down her face as she soaked up the misery surrounding her in this moment. She hugged herself tightly, her feet getting more cut up by the minute. Of course she'd take the path with a rocky sidewalk.

She ignored the jeep that pulled up beside her.

"LYDIA!" Stiles shouted to be heard over the rain. She tossed a glare his way. "Get in!"

"Go to hell!" She snapped. Lydia was not in the mood to deal with the likes of him, even if it meant spending the next fifteen minutes sopping and gloomy. She was determined not to give in.

"What's wrong?" Stiles inched his car forwards, driving along as she walked. He couldn't tell that she was crying in the rain, her makeup smudged by a mixture of foul weather and her own sadness. "Why are you mad at me?" He yelled as the sky thundered.

Lydia shook her head, "Scott forgot about me."

"And I'm here now, stupid!"

The insult did not sit well with her, and she was even more resolute in staying away from him. Stiles and Scott were nothing but trouble for her emotions these days, and she was not going to rely on anyone but herself anymore.

"_Come on_, Lyds, you don't have any shoes on!" His voice grew impatient. "Please!"

"Just go away Stiles!" Lydia stopped walking, turning toward the open window and approaching it to be heard clearly. Her cheeks puffed out in anger as she ranted, "I don't want you to help me! You _suck_ at helping so stop trying! Leave me alone!"

Stiles sat there for a long moment, staring forward to his windshield. His eyes flickered between there and his lap, his bottom lip extending in anger and a bit of sadness too. His jaw tightened as he made the tough decision, his eyes closing tightly for a brief second.

"I'll see you tomorrow Lydia," he whispered hoarsely, spinning his wheel to the left and high-tailing it out of there.

Somehow, Lydia managed to feel even worse. She was about to fall apart, but another voice disrupted her self-loathing.

"You look lost." Calvin approached her, a thick hoodie protecting his hair and body. "Cold, too. Here." He pulled his hoodie upwards off of his body, revealing a small section of abs that Lydia would have been interested in seeing if she weren't so upset.

Lydia was surprised by his direct course of action, not even asking if she wanted to wear it before pulling it over her shirt like she were a child. She brushed off the strange vibe she got from the movement, grateful for the warmth it provided.

"Thanks."

"Do you want me to drive you home?"

Lydia swallowed hard at the repeated question, an unquestionably large lump caught in her throat and she couldn't get rid of it. The tears were impossible to stop now as a sob broke free. "Yeah," she weakly responded, her voice strangled. "I'd like that."


	3. Digital Love

**A/N: You are all so incredible for leaving such nice things in the reviews! Special thanks to to the anons who left the most encouraging messages on my tumblr, as well as Kenzicolas and Livinginthesprawlii. You're the best. There are a bunch of other people I should be thanking and I'm sorry if you left a review and I didn't say your name, because every review leaves a huge smile on my face and makes my day! I hope you guys enjoy the extra lengthiness of this chapter.**

**This chapter is up fast because of the amazing response to the last one! If you want another quickie, leave a comment! Enjoy(=**

* * *

_**Digital Love**_

Chapter Two

It had been a couple of days since Calvin drove Lydia home in the rain, a couple of days since she gave him his number and they began texting back and forth. It was nothing serious, just small conversations when she was bored in class, or him sending her a text goodnight when it got late. His timing was perfect, as it always seemed be right as she was climbing into bed.

After her "disagreement" with Stiles, he'd been avoiding her. They still sat at the same lunch table, still hung out in a group, but he went out of his way to prevent speaking to her. At first it wasn't a big deal because it was exactly what she needed. He was proving to be nothing but a painful distraction and she'd been trying to get him to leave her alone for a while now. By Thursday it was worse, because she was still forced to watch him with Malia without actually getting any of her own moments with him. They were close to defining their relationship as being "official" and Lydia could tell. As the hours of the day wore on their discretion was minimal, and every small touch was public and unhidden.

Scott and Kira were only slightly better, as the sight of them didn't nauseate her. Granted, their involvement with each other made them blind to the rest of the world, but they were happy together and they weren't unhealthy for each other. Lydia's heart sunk. Malia wasn't exactly unhealthy for Stiles either, but she could pretend to make herself feel a little bit better.

Neither Scott nor Kira noticed the tension between either of their friends. It wasn't even just that Scott was oblivious to, but Lydia's anger at him. He still hadn't realized that he'd completely forgotten about her on Monday and that she was forced to walk bare feet in the pouring rain. He must've just _assumed_ she'd have a ride.

Now Lydia was carrying her lunch, brought from the deli of course, to their usual table. Scott, Kira and Stiles were already there, laughing about something. Kira sneakily stole a small carrot stick from her boyfriend, swabbing it in his ranch and popping it into her mouth. The strawberry haired teen didn't bother to fight her smile at the Kitsune's trickster abilities being used for something so innocent.

Lydia placed her chef salad on the table across from Stiles, seeing as Scott and Kira were already seated across from each other. The sound gained his attention, his eyes flickering up to notice her presence before quickly returning back to his burger. He took a large bite to avoid being forced to speak to her.

"Wow, do they sell that _here_?" Kira asked, pushing at the salad with one finger as if it were a foreign object.

"As if I buy my lunches from here," Lydia scoffed. "Pedro at the delicatessen makes my food every day, has since middle school. If you want, I can get you a discount," she suggested with a lift of her shoulders.

"Yeah! That would be awesome." Kira's face brightened, pleased to see Lydia doing slightly better today.

Scott smiled at the two girls, flattening his hand against Kira's upper back and rubbing soothingly. Her soft dark hair tickled the tips of his fingers, as if she too were caressing him. She and Lydia were getting along well, and he could see that he was right to assume their minor argument on Monday had been nothing. Part of him still wondered who gave Lydia the package, but he knew it was none of his business.

"Where's…" She was going to ask Stiles about his _special friend_'s lateness, which was unusual considering Malia's fondness for human food, but then remembered that they were not on speaking terms. Her voice trailed off and she focused on her food instead, popping off the lid.

"Malia?" Kira prompted. "She's staying late from her last class, apparently Mr. Keaton has noticed her terrible math skills and made her sit with him to work on the formulas she struggles with most."

"Which is all of them," Scott added. "So don't expect to see her today."

Lydia nodded without speaking because she didn't trust her voice. That would be a blessing.

The familiar buzzing of her phone vibrated from her purse, resonating through the thin plastic table so that all of her friends could feel it under their hands.

It was from Calvin. '_Look to your left'._

And there he was, sitting alone at a big table with nothing but his hefty backpack in the middle. He was by himself and he looked miserable.

Lydia wondered if it would be weird to invite him to the pack's table, but if she did they probably wouldn't appreciate it very much. It would be awkward, and it would mean that they couldn't discuss any pack business or supernatural related issue. Then again, the weeks following Allison's death had been quieter than usual, which she was thankful for. They all needed the break.

Her phone buzzed with another text. _'I'm lonely.' _Lydia chomped down on her lower lip; she needed to make a decision. Should she invite him over? It wasn't like she could abandon her friends for this boy, who was practically a stranger. Lydia admired her friends' faces, but they were very much involved in other things without paying much notice to her vibrating phone.

Stiles shoved a large piece of bread into his mouth, opening it wide to show the chewed wet pieces to his closest friend. When Scott looked away in disgust, he let out a howl of laughter in success.

Lydia's lip curled in revulsion. Her phone buzzed again. _'Aren't you going to sit with me?' _Her heart picked up speed as she realized he was growing impatient with her. Now or never.

Mind made up, her eyes lit up in determination. She was going to sit with him. As she rose to a standing position, her phone went off one last time. _'Fine, I don't need you bitch.' _Her eyes clouded over as she read it, then looking up to where Calvin was sitting. There was regret evident in the way he squeezed his backpack's strap tightly and his eyes shifted. He'd pressed send before she'd gotten up, his temper having risen past reason.

"Yoo-hoo, Lydia?" Scott waved a hand in front of her face, breaking her out of her trance. She didn't realize he was trying to get her attention for the last few seconds. "Why are you standing?" Even Stiles was staring at her, his jaw stopping mid-chew as confusion wrinkled his face.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Lydia declared, unable to stop the traces of anger and sadness from breaking into her voice. Without making eye contact with any of her friends, she loosely grabbed her things, uncaring if she left anything behind as she practically tore out of the cafeteria.

Scott and Stiles exchanged bewildered grimaces, both equally concerned. Kira didn't seem perturbed, shoving a spoon full of yogurt between her lips and savoring the taste with a slide of her tongue. Both boys were now expectantly watching Kira, waiting for her to explain what she clearly knew and they didn't.

"It's a girl thing," she explained.

They blinked at her.

Kira rolled her eyes, tilting her spoon at them from its position in the yogurt cup. "She got her period, _duh_."

Understanding dawned on the pair, nodding at each other in confirmation.

"Got it," Scott affirmed. "But gross."

"Next time we won't ask questions," Stiles agreed, patting his alpha on the back reassuringly.

x-x-x

"Lydia, wait," Calvin's voice called from behind her, but she kept walking. She wasn't going to let him see that he'd been able to hurt her feelings. They'd only know each other a short time and he couldn't know that he was capable of having that kind of power over her. No one should be able to make Lydia Martin cry. "Lydia," he addressed, a hand wrapping firmly around her upper arm. She didn't realize he was so close, or she would have walked faster.

"Let me go," she hissed at him, tugging her arm to free herself. He didn't release her, but his grip wasn't rough either.

"Not until you listen to me," His tongue flicked out to his cracked lips, his mind running a mile a minute to come up with an adequate explanation for his insult. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm a really hot-headed person and I can't handle it when I feel like people are rejecting me. You weren't answering my texts even though you were looking at me and I thought…" he released a heavy breath of air, sighing gruffly. "It's no excuse."

Lydia didn't understand what he was trying to say. First, he was trying to convince her that it wasn't his fault and that he felt ignored, but now he was saying that he couldn't excuse his actions. The fact that he appeared so out of breath like he'd been running was setting off warning bells in Lydia's brain. Something wasn't right here, but she couldn't put her finger on what.

"I…" She wasn't sure what to say next. "You called me a bitch!" Perfect.

Annoyance rimmed his eyebrows. "I _said_ I was _sorry_."

"That doesn't just make it go away." She crossed her arms, determined to see this argument through. "You were out of line."

"You're right, you're right." Calvin was quick to side with her, his fingers no longer pressing down on the skin of her upper arm in a tight grasp to prevent her escape but his fingers instead running along her forearm lightly. "I screwed up and I completely take the blame. I shouldn't have been a jerk just because you'd rather sit with your _friends_ than _me_." It was strange, because he'd begun with such genuineness laced in his soft tone, yet his last words were spoken with disgust and covetousness; suggesting it didn't make sense for her sit with her best friends.

"I guess I could be persuaded to forgive you…" There was no reason to hold a grudge for his poor display of anger because he was clearly regretting his choice. Maybe he had trouble trusting people. It had to especially be hard making friends at a new school, as Lydia knew she was all he had so far.

"Good." Calvin's fingers stopped drawing circles on her arms, taking her hands in his affectionately. "Could you also be persuaded to… go to dinner with me tonight?"

Lydia wanted to pull her hands away but she didn't want to hurt his feelings again. It wasn't that she wasn't intrigued by him, because she was; but she could feel something deep inside of her instincts cause a tingling in the left side of her chest. She would call it a warning sign, but it felt like too strong of a word for such a slight sensation. It was barely even there.

"I…" She'd gotten so used to ignoring things these days, so why start noticing them now? "Dinner sounds lovely." But she felt it necessary to add, "If you're paying."

Calvin chuckled wholeheartedly, squeezing her hands. "I can do you one better. I'll cook."

"You cook?" Lydia pulled back, using her surprise it as an excuse to take her hands back. "We're not talking mac and cheese or scrambled eggs?"

He laughs again, and it makes her nerves stir in a good way. "We're talking grandma's helper in the kitchen for ten years."

It's so adorable, Lydia wants to scream. But she won't, because Scott, Stiles and Derek can barely handle the sound. She settles for a giggle and a continuation of their playful banter. "Please tell me you wore an apron!"

"I have _pictures_."

"Then I guess you're picking me up at my house at seven," Lydia articulated, eyebrows jumping and her feet rocking against the back of her heels innocently.

"And I guess you like steak?" He ends with a question, waiting for a nod of confirmation before letting his smile return. "Great. Steak and seven," he reiterates, beginning to take awkward steps backwards to force himself to head toward his next class. He stumbles over his own feet as with his words, "_I mean_ - steak _at_ seven." Calvin's cheeks reddened.

"I know what you meant." His invite to dinner followed by their sweet banter had Lydia's heart pumping at a brisk pace. When he finally disappeared around the bend of the hall, she let herself fall against a locker in a dreamy state.

"God he's cute."

x-x-x

Lydia was grateful that the day didn't feel as long as it was. All she had to do was drop her books off at her locker and she could go home. A few hours after that, she'd be on a date with the interesting and gorgeous new student, Calvin Easley. They'd known each other for only four days, but she made a new friend and it was exactly what she needed. With him around, she didn't feel as neglected by everyone else in her life. He noticed her.

"There you are!" Scott McCall virtually appeared from thin air, popping up behind Lydia's locker once she shut the door. Her eyes involuntarily rolled at the sight of him, but as usual he didn't notice. "Ready to go?"

She stares at him without a clue of what he's talking about. "Go…" she drags out, "Go where?"

"Home…? I drive you home every day," he states like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "But we're going to stop at Chuckey's burgers first because we're all ravenous. Especially Malia."

Still hung up on his comment about driving her home every day, she disregarded the rest of his sentence. "Oh you _do_, do you?" Lydia placed a hand delicately on her hip, her eyes squinting at him accusingly.

"Yes?" Was it a question? Scott was nervous. The banshee could be terrifying when she wanted to be.

But Lydia didn't want to start a fight, not now. She wanted him to get what was coming to him, she wanted him to realize what a complete idiot he was being and she wanted him to wake the fuck up… but she didn't want to have to _say_ it. "Did you say something about burgers?" She asks weakly, forcing herself not to say what she so desperately needed to get out.

Once again, Scott was left with questions in regards to Lydia's personality. But she was a strange person, and getting into it would only make things complicated. If she had something to say, she'd say it. It was part of what made her _her_. "Yeah, let's get moving before Malia reverts to her coyote behavior and eats a squirrel."

Meeting up with the others at Scott's car was hell on wheels. Lydia was squished, one side against the car door and the other pressed up on the side of Malia's large ass. It was a nice one, but it was _hers_ and therefore Lydia hated it. _She didn't in any shape or form have_ _ass-envy_. Lydia's eyes scoped over Malia's figure, her gaze landing on her legs. _Or long tan leg-envy._

"Do you like them?" Apparently, Malia had noticed the attention on her lower body.

"What?" Lydia blanched, her nails digging into the skin of her pale thighs nervously.

Malia shook her legs experimentally. "My legs. Do you like them?"

This caught Stiles' attention. Lydia could only be grateful to the universe that he hadn't heard the part about getting caught looking at them. That would be weird and she did not need him developing a complex because she was a tiny bit jealous of the type of girl he'd go for. One that was nothing like her.

"No!" Lydia responded automatically, shaking her head.

Malia frowned.

"_I like them_," Stiles nearly purred the words.

Lydia couldn't stop her face from contorting in pure detestation and abhorrence. She could practically see the sex-filled desire in his eyes, hear the craving in his voice. She wanted to scream. She _really_ wanted to scream. To calm her pulsing vocal chords, Lydia cleared her throat dramatically, trying to imitate the vibration a scream would cause in her throat. It was a banshee thing, and if she tried to explain it to one of her friends they would think she was crazier than they already did. They still didn't even know that she would scream when she gets stressed out. It really helped bring down her anxiety these days. She was her own anchor.

"_Jesus_," Scott groaned in annoyance from the front seat, rolling down his window half-way.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked.

"If I answer that you're both going to get really embarrassed," he told Malia and Stiles honestly, a wafting of their arousal filling his senses.

Stiles sank back in his seat, because his friend had indirectly answered the question without saying the words. The rest of the ride to Chuckey's was relatively quiet, and he could only be glad that he and Lydia weren't on speaking terms right now. That meant she couldn't make a jab at him for every miserable moment of that car ride.

The group was settled with their food at the nearest booth. If Lydia weren't completely aware that Scott was a werewolf, she would've thought he was one just by the way he chomped on the meat of his food. Kira seemed to notice to, a delicate smile playing on her lips when she reached over to rub her thumb over the ketchup on the corner of his lip.

"_Di'shoo getch it_?" He asked, his voice muffled by the mass amounts of food he was swallowing down.

Stiles chuckled to himself as he came up with an idea. "Nah, there's more."

Kira frowned as she scanned Scott's face. "Where?"

"Don't worry I'll get it," Stiles told her, licking his thumb and reaching across the table for Scott. His friend pulled back at the sight of his friend's saliva grazing his finger, completely grossed out.

"Don't touch me, don't touch me!" Scott fell into Lydia's lap to narrowly escape the boy's thumb. Stiles laughed victoriously as he rubbed his entire hand over Scott's face, ruffling his hair in the process. "Cut it out!" Scott demanded with a laugh that told him he didn't take it seriously.

Lydia was fuming. She didn't want to be here, she didn't want to eat this disgusting fast food and she wanted Scott to get the _hell_ off her lap. She wanted to be on her nice date eating steak with a handsome gentleman that never seemed to fail to make her feel good the moment their eyes connected. Not only did Scott have the audacity to completely forget about her on Monday, but he'd been disregarding her anger with him since. He hadn't even remembered it when he brought it up today, daring to claim that he drives her home every day. Stiles was still ignoring her as well, pretending like she wasn't even there no matter where they were the entire week; at lunch, in the hall, in the car, and even now at a fast food joint. Lydia Martin had officially had enough.

"Get off of me!" She bellowed, shoving one hand at Scott and the other at Stiles. "Off, _now_!"

They scrambled to get away from the pushy girl, everyone suddenly on edge. The situation was so light-hearted and sweet just a couple of seconds ago. Kira and Malia were in hysterics over Stiles' antics and Scott's desperation to escape. It only made them laugh a little harder when both boys landed on Lydia's lap beside the window and for her to react the way she did took everyone out of the moment. They were all quiet and still, as if any sudden movement might set her off.

"Jesus, Lydia, where's the fire?" Kira chimed, watching the banshee in disbelief.

"It's nothing," she hurried to repair her error, but they weren't going to let this one go. They stared at her with expectation in their eyes, waiting for her to explain. When she took a moment too long, Scott crossed his arms in anger. Stiles stood straighter and narrowed his eyes. Kira was wary and watchful. Malia was still trying to figure out if everyone else had figured out why Lydia was so angry. "It's just that I'm going on a date tonight and I have like no time to get ready." They already thought she was materialistic and selfish, right? They would believe this. It wasn't completely untrue either, she really did have a date and precious time was wasting. It just hadn't been the reason she blew her top.

"A date!?" Kira's face twisted until somehow a smile was there. "Why didn't you just tell me? I would've gotten Scott to take you home before we went to Chuckey's."

"Yeah, Lydia, you know I would've helped you out. All you have to do is ask," Scott tells her, a hint of something genuine solidified in his gaze.

"Who are you going out with?" Kira inquired, pleased that the mood was getting increasingly brighter and a few nearby patrons had stopped staring at them.

Lydia wanted to keep him all to herself, but if she had to answer… "Calvin Easley."

"The new kid?" Scott questioned, startled. He was most definitely not Lydia's type. He seemed like such a loner, he couldn't see the boy getting on with many people in the school, especially not Lydia Martin.

"You're going on a _date_ with him!?" Stiles' voice shocked everyone this time, as it was the first time he'd spoken to her in days. Lydia's heart did that racing thing again that it loved to do when his eyes were on her. She didn't really mind his critical tone as much as she should have; she just liked to know that he cared enough to judge her for it. But she knew she should be angry, because Calvin was her friend. And Lydia Martin defended her friends.

"Yes I am," she declared proudly, lifting her chin at him.

"Isn't he the one you told me about?" Scott turned to Stiles. "The one who beat up Blake?"

Stiles nodded briskly, inverting his lips to suck them into his mouth before starting up again. "Yep! That's the suitor our Lydia has chosen. So many nice normal candidates at Beacon Hills but once again, she goes for the last person she can trust." Stiles' nostrils flared, his eyes burning with enmity.

"The last person?" Lydia scoffed at him, her lips parted at his ridiculous claim. "He's the _only_ person who's even bothered with me these past few days."

"Yeah Lydia, _days_," Stiles stressed, animosity rising as he continued to berate her. "You don't even know this guy and because he called you pretty you want to spread your legs for him?" He regretted the words the moment they slipped out, eyelids immediately shutting tightly in regret. Sometimes he wished he'd just put his foot in his mouth. Unfortunately his head and his heart sometimes did this thing where they'd cross boundaries and tie into each other and get all muddled until he isn't sure what's logical and what's emotional.

"_Stiles_," Scott reprimanded, disturbed by his choice of words. Kira was equally disappointed, her head shaking at him in a very Kira way that said "Not cool".

Lydia's eyes watered and filled to the brim before she could blink them back. Her nose turned carnation pink and she sniffled. "Scott, will you take me home now please?"

"Of course," He slapped his napkin onto the table. "I'll come back to get you guys in ten minutes," he muttered, deciding not to look at Stiles. Lydia was already out the door waiting for him by his car when he finished collecting his things.

"Scott…" Stiles touched his friend's arm, guilt ridden. "I didn't…"

"I know, but you still hurt her feelings. Give her some time to cool off and talk to her tomorrow." Scott felt a pull in his heart when he saw the pained look in Stiles' eyes. "It's all you can do, man. I'll be right back." He pressed a quick kiss to Kira's cheek and headed for the parking lot.

"For whatever it's worth, I think you were right," Malia piped up.

Stiles sent a warning stare her way. Kira wanted to roll her eyes, but stopped herself.

"I didn't mean what you said, because that wasn't right. But I don't think Calvin would be a good fit for Lydia. He seems very…" she gestured wildly with her hands to find the word. "Strange."

"And if _Malia_'s saying it," Kira agreed.

"I'm not strange, I'm just new. Like you," Malia defended.

"Malia, I'm a new student, this is true. You however, are new at the entire human thing. You're nine years behind."

"But I'm catching on quickly, right Stiles?" Her eyes blinked up at him, but he wasn't listening.

There was a far-away look in his eyes as he stared off into the distance, face plagued with guilt.

"Stiles?" Kira prompted gently. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he jerked his attention back. "Yeah, I just feel kind of bad."

"You can apologize tomorrow." Kira patted his shoulder. "It really wasn't that bad. Get her some flowers or something and she'll be over it like that," she snaps her fingers for dramatic effect.

x-x-x

Lydia wouldn't allow Scott to apologize for Stiles' actions. Sure, she wanted Scott to tell her he was sorry, but for something entirely different; and if he didn't know the reason then she didn't want it. After dropping her off, Scott wished her luck on her date and returned to Chuckey's to gather the remainder of his friends.

Now Lydia was sitting in Calvin's car, admiring the gentle rainfall through his tinted windows. It had been raining the last time she was with him, too, only far more violently then. The radio was playing on low, left on some classic rock station that Calvin enjoyed. It wasn't what she usually listened to, but she was able to enjoy it the same.

"Why so quiet?" Calvin finally asked as he flipped on his cars right turn signal as he slowed to a stop. He was able to turn and look at her, the red light preventing them from going anywhere for the moment.

Lydia tried to draw out her silence. If she waited until the light turned green then he couldn't study her expression and catch her in a lie. She didn't want to talk about her encounter at Chuckey's, especially so soon after it happened. She was still processing Stiles' insult and considering why he'd said it. Her eyes burned into the light fixture, pleading with it to turn. It stayed a solid shade of bright red, almost mocking her with its intensity.

"I'm just tired," she tried, smoothing her hands over her thighs as if she were cold. Lydia just didn't want to be still, anxious under his withering stare. "What's with the look?" She questioned, lifting a brow at him.

"I can tell you're lying," he turned back to face the wheel, pressing his foot to the gas as the light finally switched. "But it's okay. If you don't want to talk about it we don't have to."

Normally he was a little more aggressive in his approach. Although their friendship was new, he'd proven himself to be very pushy and difficult to avoid. It was necessarily a bad thing, but she was so used to lying to everyone else in her life that she didn't think she could be honest. He was slowly but surely unraveling her lies and forcing her to be truthful with him; which is why it was so strange for him to just _let it be_.

Lydia decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and nodded appreciatively, "How far are we from your house?" She glanced upwards at the sky, admiring the rolling grey clouds covering the deep blue upper atmosphere. "It could turn into a storm out there."

"Funny you should ask…" Calvin pulled his car into a small driveway, pulling the shift into 'park'. "Welcome to my humble abode."

She smirked, "It's pretty." She didn't know what else to say, because if she were to be completely honest his home was a bit run-down. It was small and in serious need of a paint-job, but it was a home nonetheless.

"You're lying again," Calvin told her candidly. "It's okay, I know it's ugly."

"No, it isn't!" Lydia insisted. "I haven't even seen the inside yet, don't penalize me yet okay?"

Calvin chewed on his inner cheek, eyes dropping briefly to admire her lips. The motion was so quick that Lydia wasn't sure if she actually saw it, but she decided to take it in a positive light.

"Okay," he relented, his lips stretching into a smile. "Come on, I'll introduce you to my brother."

Lydia followed his lead as he climbed out of the car. He waited for her to step out before extending his hand to take hers. She offered it to him without question, giggling as he ran for the cover of the overhang above the porch, tugging her behind him.

"Quickly, the water is toxic!" He pulled her into the dry shade of the porch, jokingly checking her for injuries with no indication of his nonsense written on his face. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Lydia only laughed harder, having never seen this lighthearted side of him before. Her heart melted when a shy smile made its way onto his face, his hand traveling up her arm slowly, loosely wrapping his fingers in her hair before running his thumb over her jaw gently. Growing increasingly nervous at his close proximity, her giggling faded into nothing, her lips parted ever so slightly.

Seeing this as permission to kiss her, Calvin began to lean in, lowering his face toward hers. Lydia's breath caught, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to stop him. Remembering the way she was treated today, the way Stiles had been neglecting her, the way she'd turned down so many guys in the past month because she could only think of _him_… she let her eyes slipped close. She deserved this.

Just as his breath tickled her puckered lips, the screen front door opened, swinging until it smacked against the masonry of the house's siding. Lydia jumped back in surprise while Calvin maintained his composure as he always did.

What Lydia presumed to be Calvin's older brother stood in the doorway, all scruffy and tall and thin. He was extremely attractive, but in a completely different way from Calvin. His hair was lighter and cut shorter, though he had facial hair whereas Calvin did not. He was thinner and taller, standing at what had to be a full 6'3''. He was wearing a blue wife-beater and a pair of baggy dark blue jeans.

Showing no emotion at interrupting their kiss, Calvin's brother reached a hand up to scratch his small beard. "You coming in or what?" He sounded tired, but part of Lydia believed he always sounded like that. He hadn't even acknowledged Lydia's presence.

"Yeah," Calvin said under his breath, a frown marring his handsome face. He was going to wait until his brother went back inside, but he was simply waiting there in the doorway for Lydia and Calvin. "Come on," he whispered to Lydia, placing a reassuring hand on her lower back and leading her inside.

Lydia didn't like that this man didn't bother stepping back to allow them through, only turning his body to let them barely squeeze through, his chest brushing against the arm of Lydia's coat as she made her way inside. She didn't see the look Calvin shot him.

Deciding to take control of the situation and her out of control anxiety, Lydia extended a hand toward Calvin's sibling confidently. "I'm Lydia," she introduced firmly. She watched his expression change carefully, a glint in his eyes suggesting that he was impressed with her forwardness.

Seeing his brother make no move to say his own name, Calvin tried one on for size. "Lydia, this is my older brother Forrest." Just to piss him off he then added, "He's 24 and unemployed."

Forrest sent Calvin a death stare. "Temporarily," he told Lydia gruffly. "I'm just getting off my feet, I lost my job last month and I'm still looking."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Lydia announced honestly.

"We should get started on dinner." Calvin glanced at Forrest. "We're making steak."

"Will I be joining you on this dinner or is it a _private _event?"

"The more the merrier," Lydia spoke too fast. Once again, she was having doubts about dating Calvin. If she could just make up her mind, that would be great.

Forrest looked between the teenagers warily. He'd noticed the strange abruptness she spoke with, as had Calvin. No one commented on it, and for that Lydia could breathe a sigh of relief.

"I only bought two steaks," Calvin confessed.

"That's okay; Lydia and I can get started on the first two while you run out."

Calvin narrowed his eyes at his brother before turning to Lydia, lowering his head and voice at her. "Is that okay with you?" He didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

Lips set in a thin line, Lydia nodded briskly. Being alone with Calvin's weird older brother wasn't her favorite idea, but it wasn't something she could say without causing some very big problems. What was the worst that could happen? If he were truly a bad guy, Calvin wouldn't have brought her there in the first place. He was just a bit socially awkward, and it clearly ran in the family.

"Okay, I'll be right back." Calvin grabbed his phone and keys, offering a wave at Lydia before rushing out the door. It was quiet for a long moment as Lydia watched the door close behind her _date_, the rain still dripping onto the grass of his lawn.

"You're gonna have to do the heavy lifting," Forrest began, "I'm not exactly a chef in the kitchen like my brother over there."

"So it's true what he tells me then." Lydia squinted her eyes at him. "Okay, let's get started."

Cooking with Forrest wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, and he was nowhere near as creepy as she first believed. He was a loner-type like Calvin, that much she figured out. There was still a lot she wanted to know, but she wasn't sure how to bring any of her questions up in a way that wouldn't chase him off.

"So it's just you and Calvin living here?"

"Sometimes my girlfriend stays here," Forrest answers with a shrug, copying Lydia's motions and dipping the second steak into the mixture of seasoning. She's standing beside him, demonstrating the proper way to begin.

"Where are your parents?" Lydia asked quietly, her heart picking up speed as he stilled his movements cautiously.

"They're dead." It wasn't a detailed response by any means, but Lydia decided not to mention anything else on the topic. It was clearly a no-fly zone when it came to conversation topics. They were silent for a couple of minutes until Calvin cleared his throat. "Uhm…" he began uncertainly.

"What is it?" She prompted, turning the stove on. Within two clicks of the gas turning on, a flame appeared.

"You care about him right? My brother?"

Stunned by the question, Lydia only took a short second before responding. "Absolutely." It was true; she cared for him increasingly so. Every day she liked him a little bit more. He was her rock this past week and she was going to return the favor even if it killed her.

"I just wanted to tell you…" he stops his movements, turning to face her. He waited for her to do the same before continuing. "I just want you to stick by him. Promise me you will. He really needs someone in his life to ground him.

"I will," Lydia affirmed eagerly.

"Calvin… Sometimes he does strange things," Forrest explained delicately. Lydia already had a million questions but she waited for him to finish, as he might answer them in his small speech. "Things you won't and really can't understand. He's got his issues, but he really is a good person and you need to trust him… even when things get bad."

"What do you mean?" Lydia found herself growing worried. Was something wrong with Calvin? Was he sick in some way? What if he had some horrible disease and a few months to live? What if he grew to be her closest friend and then she lost him? She shook her head, ridiculing herself at her overreaction.

Neither of them noticed Calvin returning home, or standing in the middle of the foyer listening to them through the archway leading to the kitchen. He was watching them, suspicious of his brother's wording.

"Sometimes… he…"

"_Talking about me_?" Calvin knew it was time to cut in before Forrest said something they'd both later regret.

"Calvin!" Lydia was put off by the alarm in Forrest's voice and the way his hand slipped off the counter, stepping away from her like he'd done something wrong. She found that curious.

"You know what Lydia, I'm really not feeling that well," Calvin sounded cold and distant; like he didn't even care that they'd planned a date for the night. He'd driven her all the way here, bought two steaks and then went out and bought a third, had her start cooking, and was now telling her… what exactly?

"Are you okay?" Lydia took a step toward him, placing a hand on his crossed arms. His eyes stayed trained on Forrest for another second before he looked to Lydia, his darkened eyes suddenly light again as if nothing was wrong.

"I'll be fine, but I think I need to lie down for a while. Is it okay if you have one of your friends pick you up?"

Lydia twitched at the question, dread curling in her belly. He wanted her to call one of her friends. As if she could actually handle seeing them right now after everything that happened at Chuckey's today. But she wasn't about to force him to drive her home, especially when he wasn't feeling well enough.

"Yeah," she chirped meekly, suddenly finding the tile below her feet much more interesting than the entire night.

"Thanks." Calvin took her hand in his and squeezed it briefly. "I'll make it up to you I promise." His eyes cast upwards to his brother. "I think I need help finding my alarm clock. I need it for school tomorrow." His intonation dropped significantly. "_Will you help me_?"

Forrest swallowed hard. "I think it's on your bedside table."

"_No I don't think it is_," Calvin clamored huskily, his face growing red with annoyance.

"Yeah…" Forrest ran a hand down the back of his neck, heading for Calvin's room with his younger brother close behind.

Lydia stood there for a long moment as she considered the last few minutes. What the hell just happened? Why was Calvin acting so strange? Why was Forrest so intimidated by his _little_ brother who was far smaller and less awkward? It was as if Calvin had been possessed by something, like he was body-jacked in the frozen aisle of the grocery store.

With shaky hands, Lydia dialed Scott's number from her memory. It went straight to voicemail without a single ring. She already knew where this was going, even as she called Kira and it rang and _rang_ until her sweet awkward voice told her to leave a message after the beep. She knew where this was going as she sunk low enough to call one of the most materialistic girls at school, someone she used to call her best friend before the incident with the missing shoes.

"Who's this?" The snotty voice of Regan Fisher demanded.

"It's… Uh, it's Lydia Martin." She smacked her forehead. Confidence was key when talking to girls like Regan.

"_Lydia Martin?_" The girl cackled from the other end, whispering to a few people near her. "It's Lydia Martin!" She cleared her throat before speaking to the humiliated girl again. "Wow, I deleted your number so long ago. Didn't even realize you'd still have mine! But I guess you would." Regan's best defense was insulting people without directly saying it. She was a complete and total bitch, and Lydia no longer felt bad about stealing her heels in 10th grade.

Deciding that these last few seconds were torture enough, Lydia hung up without even bothering to ask for a ride. She didn't even bother with a goodbye, because the conversation was already pointless. Finally, she settled for where she all along knew this was going. She called Stiles.


	4. Pretty When You Cry

**A/N: I'm sorry for the emotional roller coaster ahead.**

_Pretty When You Cry_

Chapter Three

Lydia could see the irony in the fact that it was raining when Stiles pulled up in his jeep, just as it was when she yelled at him and he fiercely drove away. It was only a drizzle, but it was enough to ignite the anxiety rising in her chest when she saw the familiar car from her view in the kitchen window, slowly driving down the street to locate the right house number. While she waited for him to pull into the driveway, she remembered her brief discussion with him on the phone.

_He picked up after three rings, just when Lydia thought he was going to screen her call. "Hello?" Came his fatigued answer. She could hear the sleep in the way he articulated his words._

_ "Did I wake you?" She breathed, rubbing her arm to cool her nerves._

_ "No," Stiles answered quickly before sighing. She could almost hear him rubbing his eyes to make himself more alert "Yeah, but I wasn't supposed to be sleeping. I passed out on my English homework." there was a poignant silence. "I'm actually really glad you called."_

_ Goosebumps formed onto Lydia's arms and legs, an unconfident shiver running through her shaking bones. She bit down on her lip hard to stop her teeth from chattering before telling him why she really called. "I was wondering if you could pick me up…" she trailed off, feeling slightly guilty at making him get her from her date's home._

_ "I thought you had a date…" As he pondered the reasons it may have failed, he was suddenly much more awake, the sleepy crack in his voice all but faded as he pushed himself into a sitting position atop his bed. "Is everything okay?"_

_ "Yeah, yeah," Lydia reassured, although she wasn't very convincing in her argument._

_ "Where are you?" The jingle of his keys could be heard from the other end of the line._

After giving him the address, it had taken him a mere 20 minutes to get to the house. She was so distracted by this memory that she'd almost forgotten he was there until she heard him knock on the front door. Somehow, Calvin got to the door first, as told by the opening of the door and the muffled sound of his voice.

"Hey Calvin," Stiles greeted, severely lacking enthusiasm. He tries to peer around Calvin, but his body is all but blocking the entire doorway. "Where's Lydia?" After their brief phone call, Stiles drove all the way to Calvin's house trying to convince himself that she was fine. If something was really wrong, she would have sounded much more upset, right? He just wanted to see her, the most genuine proof that she was really okay. Stiles still didn't know why she needed to be picked up when her _date_ was perfectly capable of taking her home. It hadn't been that long since he left Chuckey's, so the dinner couldn't possibly be over this soon.

"Lydia, Stiles is here!" Calvin called to the girl without actually looking away from Stiles.

"I know." Neither had realized she was standing behind Calvin's blocky figure. He stepped aside to allow her to pass the threshold.

Stiles nodded at her unnoticeably, feeling himself grow significantly calmer at the sight of her. He backed up on the porch, taking a few steps down toward the driveway while still managing to wait for her to catch up.

As she passed through the doorway, Lydia felt Calvin's hand lightly graze hers in a loose grip. "Don't let him try anything," he whispered to her and her alone. Though she was giving him a very hesitant stare, he smiled wholeheartedly and added, "I'll make tonight up to you, I promise."

Stiles paused on the stairs, his eyes trailing over the spot Calvin held onto Lydia's wrist. "Are you coming?" He inquired impatiently, honestly just wanting him to stop touching her her without directly saying so.

Without answering, Lydia pulled her hand away and muttered a goodbye to her date, following Stiles to his jeep. She climbed into the passenger seat with silence, her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth to force herself to remain quiet until Stiles began the conversation.

"Quick date," he commented as he backed his car out of the narrow driveway. Stiles glanced toward the front windshield, where he could plainly see Calvin still standing in his doorway, his eyes trained on Lydia in the most focused possible way. It gave him a weird feeling, but he pushed it aside and averted his eyes, settling them on the rearview mirror to finish his journey to the street.

"He had to cancel, he's not feeling well."

"Looked perfectly healthy to _me_," debated Stiles, his fingers firmly holding onto the rubber of the wheel. He had to be very careful with how this conversation went because he was already on thin ice after his earlier display of rudeness.

"Yeah well no one asked you," Lydia huffed, crossing her arms in determination.

Stiles look at her from the corner of his eyes, shuffling his feet in their location by the pedals after pulling up to a stop sign. "Can we talk?" Trickles of rain splattered onto the window, the windshield wipers gently folding and swaying back and forth in a rhythmic sweeping potion, spreading the wetness and clearing the sight of the road.

"I thought we _were_ talking." She knew what he meant, but she wasn't going to make this easy for him.

"Heh, yeah…" he chortled nervously, tapping his thumbs along the outer-rim of the wheel anxiously. "Funny."

"I thought so." She returned her gaze to the window, feeling the heaviness of the car lurch slowly back into motion.

"I meant about earlier… about what I said?" he finished lamely, a flush of white spreading up his neck and rendering his face pale and white.

"I know what you meant." Lydia refused to look at him, because if she did she would give in to his puppy-dog eyes and sweet dip of his forehead in that guilty way he did. Just listening to his nervous choice of words made her heart fall into her stomach, but she was adamant on him being the one to admit his wrong-doing here. She would settle for nothing less.

Apart from the droplets of water hitting the pavement and cleaning Stiles' jeep, the gentle hum of the cars motor and the clicking sound of his right-turn signal, the air was still. At least it was, until a hushed whisper broke all of Lydia's resolve. "_I'm really sorry_." He sounded so sincere and regretful that she wanted to follow it up with her own apology.

She watched his expression remain sorrowful, though he was focused on the road. He did a brief double-take, catching her thoughtful eyes. She wanted to tell him that sorry wasn't enough, that he was guilty of more than just putting his foot in his mouth. But Lydia Martin wasn't a confrontational person and she didn't do well with telling other people how she felt. "It's okay," she told him breathlessly.

Stiles frowned as he studied her fallen face, "It's not," he insisted. "I can tell."

"_No_ it really is," she lied through her teeth. "I'm just upset that the date ended early, it isn't you."

He wasn't sure that was a better answer. After a little though, he finally asked what he'd been dying to know. "So what really happened? And none of that 'he wasn't feeling well' crap."

"He really wasn't. He ran to the store while his brother and I started cooking and when he got back he was looking a little… pale."

Stiles put a hand up, still stuck on the 'brother' part. "Hold on one second, he has a brother? Two weird new guys at school?" He shakes his head at the idea.

"_No_," Lydia scolds. "His brother is older than us. And don't call Calvin weird."

Stiles can't help his childish remark, "Sorry, didn't mean to _offend_ you _Mrs. Easley_."

"Would you knock it off?" Lydia's annoyance returns with a vengeance. How could she think Stiles was cute? He was a complete and total pain in the ass and the fact that she had feelings for him was the most obnoxious thing in the universe; right after him, of course.

He obviously got the message, hearing the snarky edge in her demand. "So when is date number two?" Stiles asked, changing the subject.

"I don't know if there's gonna be," she shifted uncomfortably under his questioning gaze, staring out the front window as if she couldn't see him. She pinched nervously at the skin of her exposed thigh peeking out from under her skirt.

"Why not?" Stiles' Adams Apple bobbed nervously. Talking about Calvin was uneasy territory, as Lydia was surprisingly protective of the boy after such a short time. Though he couldn't possibly understand the strangeness that was their friendship, he knew it had something to do with her needing someone to rely on. It made him feel a twinge of guilt, but at least she had someone to connect with on a more intimate level now. Even if it didn't make him happy, the guy was undeniably nice to her.

"I don't know if a relationship is what I need right now." A relationship with anyone other than Stiles, that is. It wouldn't be fair to Calvin to be with him when her heart was in the iron grip of another boy.

"Think he'll take it well?" He doubted it. Being rejected by Lydia wasn't the nicest thing, and somewhere existed a list of boys that agreed.

"I don't know. There's still so much I don't know about the kind of person he is," Lydia told Stiles, almost taken aback by how honest she was being in this moment. She hadn't had a personal moment with the boy since the day of Allison's funeral. Her heart squeezed on the sudden memory. No. She wasn't going to cry just from thinking about that day. She refused.

Stiles noticed the shift in atmosphere and Lydia's sharp intake of breath. "What's wrong?"

"The rain stopped," Lydia interjected before he finished asking, behaving as if he hadn't uttered a word as she admired the sky, rolling down her window. The rain had in fact stopped, leaving the sky with deep streaks of blue raveled in with an ever so slight rainbow that Lydia could see if she looked at just the right angle. The hood of Stiles' jeep dripped steadily, rolling along slick pavement.

"You don't say?" Stiles jested, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her innocently poke her head out the window and observe the suddenly much greener trees and shrubbery. Flowers stood straight in the front lawns of homes, somehow appearing proud as they absorbed into their soil the water that kept them alive. Stiles was disappointed when he saw Lydia's house come into view. This moment was going to end. "I'm really glad we did this," he swore, the car pulling to a slow stop directly in front of her house.

"Yeah," Lydia had to admit that it was really amazing getting a chance to speak with Stiles one on one, even if the air was still poisoned by his neglect of their friendship this past month and a half. He was oblivious yet sweet at the same time.

"Yeah," he reiterated, his nerves rattling when her large eyes met his. "Maybe we can…" his voice trailed off as his eyes darted off somewhere behind her.

"_We can…_" Lydia pressed impatiently. "We can what?" Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. The idea that he could be asking her to hang out with him one on one had her blood burning and her heart wildly skipping. If he gave her a chance, if he got to know her again, he might see that she was finally seeing _him_ in a new way for months now. In the mix of her thoughts, Lydia realized he was still staring off. "Stiles?"

"Isn't that your mom?"

Taken off guard by the question, Lydia blinked at him for just a second before turning around to face her house. Her mother was dumping an entire box of jewelry into the trash, tears furiously leaking down her red cheeks. "What the hell?" Lydia gasped, her hands clumsily reaching for the car door. She stumbled over the handle for a moment before managing to push it open, her only concern about getting to her mom.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Stiles called, worry threading in his suggestion.

"No, I'll handle it," she hoped he could tell that she was thankful, though.

"Are you sure?" He waited until she looked in his eyes, the redheaded beauty standing in the open door of the passenger side with her lips set in a grim line. She nodded, forcing a reassuring smile that only folded into a bigger frown. "Okay," he mouthed. A silent understanding was made through eye contact as Stiles quickly told her to call him if she needed anything before allowing her to run to her mother's aid.

"Mom, what are you doing!?" Lydia yelled when she was half-way across the yard, ignoring the way her expensive heels sank into the dirt and muddied them. She met up with her on the driveway, where she was still angrily throwing her things into the garbage.

"Your father is suing me!" She cried, tears of frustration finding their way out of the corners of her eyes. "He wants to lower the child support and if possible… he wants custody of _you_. He thinks I'm an incapable parent and he has evidence that could persuade a judge," she wipes at her eyes with her free hand, the other clutching onto a pearl necklace. She didn't want to get rid of it.

"What are you talking about?" Lydia shook her head. "What evidence?"

"Your visits to hospitals, being out late at night and finding _bodies_…" Natalie Martin gaped, shocked by her own words. How could she let things get so out of hand? "You're sleep-walking out of the house and you wake up with mud on you, you're best friend, that sweet innocent Allison was murdered by someone who was never caught!" She was completely losing herself, uncontrollably shaking as she listened to herself speak.

"Mom…" Lydia tried, tears threatening to break. "They won't just sign off custody, I'm seventeen and they know I'm old enough to make that kind of choice."

"Not if they think I'm a danger to you." Natalie's lips curled as she took in her daughter's appearance. "Look at how much weight you've lost. How could I not notice that?"

"Why does he want me to live with him?"

"His exact words were 'mentally unfit to be a parent'."

Lydia wasn't sure how to respond to that. Her mother wasn't the poster child for mental health, especially not lately, but she was most certainly not a bad person or a bad mom. Even though she was always working and traveling for business, she loved her with fierce devotion. "Why are you throwing all of your jewelry away?" Lydia's voice broke, a hard lump of emotion forming in her throat.

"Not all of it." As Natalie visibly calmed down, she rubbed at her pink nose with a sniffle. "Just the things your father bought me." Her lip curled in disgust. "I can't look at it anymore." With that, she tossed the necklace into the bin. It clanked once as it hit the side, landing pitifully at the bottom with a pile of other expensive gold and silver.

Lydia's eyes lowered, falling until they landed on the shiny wet grass, the sound of crickets growing louder as her mother's sniffles drowned into nothingness and faded into the background.

x-x-x

It was the next day that Lydia heard all about the party that "everyone" was going to. Tonight was the lacrosse game and there was a victory party scheduled for afterwards. It was confident of them to plan so far ahead, but it was mostly just another excuse to get drunk anyway. If Beacon Hills lost tonight, then the party would be a "pick me up" party. The most obnoxious part, it was being held at Regan Fisher's house, ex-best friend slash psycho bitch. _There was really no reason for Lydia to bother making an appearance._

Her eyes landed on a particular tall member of the McCall pack, leaning his elbow up against a locker as he chatted with his best friend. _Unless Stiles was going._ It was a split second later that Lydia decided screw it, and went for it.

"Hey Stiles," she greeted cheerily as she approached, her eyes flittering over to Scott. "Scott," she nodded.

"Hey Lyds," Scott smiled. "Are you ready to watch me do amazing in tonight's game?"

"Well I did place a 20 dollar bet that you would, so make me proud, McCall." Okay, so it was a lie, but it made his smile grow broader and that was what really mattered. Most people knew better than to bet against Scott at this point, but she'd be willing to put down money if someone asked.

"But you believe in me too, right?" Stiles faked a pout, blinking down at her sadly.

Lydia inadvertently blushed, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. "I have some faith."

"There's my girl!" Scott interrupted his attention elsewhere as he watched Kira fumble with her locker combination. "Excuse me," he muttered to his friends, not even glancing toward them as he made a quick stride toward his girlfriend.

Lydia rolled her eyes at Stiles, who simply chuckled. "I was going to ask…" she began, frustrated with herself for being nervous. "…Are you going to the party tonight?" If Stiles wasn't going to go with her then she didn't want to go at all.

Dread filled Stiles' stomach and constricted his chest, his eyes bulging as he took in the anxious way she kicked her foot along the tile and the hopeful way she regarded him. She wasn't going to ask him to go with her, was she? No way. "_Oh_…Yeah," Stiles half-shrugged, leaning his left elbow against the locker and scratching his hand along the back of his neck. "…With Malia."

Lydia's breathing labored and her chest tightened painfully, immediately feeling both foolish and embarrassed for even attempting to ask him to accompany her. Of course he was going with Malia. They practically had a label on their relationship. "Right," she choked out, forcing the words to burble out like a robot. "I'm going with Calvin so that's cool."

Stiles removed his arm from the locker, his eyebrows sinking. "You are?"

"Yeah, he asked me and I said yes," Lydia lied automatically.

"But you said you weren't going to date him." Stiles crossed his arms. "You said you didn't think there would be a second date. That you probably weren't interested."

"I never said I wasn't interested," Lydia said pointedly.

Stiles thought it over. "I'm pretty sure you did!"

Lydia shook her head at him as he mulled it over some more. "I didn't say that. I wasn't sure how I felt, but now I know that I'm really into him. It might even turn into something…_more_," she stressed, just to make him squirm. She knew it was mean but she couldn't help herself, she had to rub it in after putting up with his Malia flirtations this past month.

Stiles flinched like she'd struck him. "Okay, if you're sure." He scratched his chin as the situation grew increasingly awkward. "Hey, what happened with your mom last night? Is everything okay?"

Lydia's eyes darkened, "Yeah," she whispered to the air. "Don't worry about it Stiles. Just family stuff."

He could understand that. "Well, if you need anything give me a ring. You know I'm only a few blocks away," he told her as he began to back away, prepared for the bell to ring as he threw her a wink.

Lydia felt her cheeks grow hot but successfully waved a goodbye at him anyway.

x-x-x

It was at lunch that Lydia regretted not shooting Calvin a quick text and asking him to go to the party with her. She should've just done that… Instead of waiting until now to take him aside and ask him in person. Because now she was trapped and she didn't have a chance to ask before Stiles stopped him in the hall and said,

"Come sit with us."

"With you guys?" Calvin lifted his eyebrows at him. "You and your friends?"

Lydia's eyes darted back and forth between the two boys. Was Stiles playing at something? Why was he inviting him to sit with them? Was he going to find out she was lying? What if he already knew? She shook herself to clear her racing thoughts, watching Calvin carefully for his answer. _Please say no_. Otherwise the party would come into the topic at some point and Stiles would find out she was a big fat liar.

"Yeah," Stiles nods. "Being new is hard. We pretty much take in all the new kids. Kira and Malia were new when we took them into the pa-…" he stopped himself short. "Our group of friends."

"Okay, sure." Calvin runs a hand through his floppy black hair, mussing it up as he follows Stiles into the cafeteria. He glances toward Lydia, who has panicked eyes, even as she sits between Kira and Calvin.

"So, Calvin." Stiles moves to sit across from him, loosely wrapping an arm around his girlfriend who is currently sucking on a lemon. "How do you like Beacon Hills so far?"

Scott shoots Kira a look across the table, mouthing a "What is he doing here?" to her discretely. She shakes her head at him, appearing just as shell-shocked.

"It's a little bland for my taste," Calvin quipped, though his voice remained monotone and subjective.

"Bland, huh?" Stiles smirks, sending Scott a look that suggested they were in on some joke. Scott just stared at him blankly, like he wasn't sure what his friend was trying to do. "Beacon Hills, _bland_, I haven't heard that one before."

"Well it _is_ very normal," Lydia stresses, her eyes sending Stiles a silent warning.

Calvin can tell he's missing something here, but can't put his finger on what. Either way, he's intrigued by this chain of events because they're obviously headed somewhere interesting.

After seeing Lydia's expression, Stiles backs off a bit. "Scott, you and Kira are coming to the party with me after the game right?"

"Yeah, definitely," Scott proclaims as he crams a couple of French fries into his mouth messily.

"Lydia, are you and Calvin gonna need a ride?" Stiles asks casually as he places his arms on the table, one hand playing with the wrapper of a straw without him consciously being aware of it.

"I…" She trails off as she takes a look at the dark-haired teen, his face the color of confusion. "He has his own car," she finishes lamely.

Kira's eyes widen and then narrow before enlarging once more. "You guys are going to the party together?!" Her mouth parts excitedly. "That's awesome!"

Calvin blinked at the group before him. "Okay," he started, licking his lips with puzzlement written in the soles of his eyes. "How out of the loop am _I _right now?"

Even as he began to speak, Lydia knew no good could come of whatever he was about to say. He was about to spill the beans and Stiles was going to figure out that everything she said had been a stupid childish rouse to get him to think that she didn't like him as much as she did. He was going to think she was pathetic and he was going to calmly reject her and tell her that he was with Malia. He was going to stop hanging out with her as much because of the awkwardness that came after and the group dynamic would fall apart, and with it would Lydia. She couldn't let that happen.

So when Lydia's lips crashed against Calvin's, the absurdity that would eventually come of it, the trauma that Lydia did not realize was coming in just a few short months during that moment of panic… It was going to be worth it. Right?

The entire group was stunned by the show their friend was putting on.

The moment Lydia's lips were on Calvin's, Stiles jumped in surprise, and then instantly revolted with a turn of his eyes. Scott pulled back from his drink, straw still hanging limply in his mouth and droplets of soda falling onto his jeans as he watched the pair go at it. Malia and Kira faired no different, though Kira was watching with a small smile adorned on her lips. She was the only among them doing so.

It was unexpected, but not unappreciated. Calvin immediately wrapped his arms around her body and pulled Lydia closer to him on the seat, hearing Kira let out a silent "_oh_" as she scooted her butt away from the increasingly sexual pair. There was something extremely arousing about the way that Lydia pressed her lips against his right in front of all of her friends, telling them that she belonged to him. He could see that it was what she was telling them, it was the reason she kissed him. Lydia was declaring her love for him, and they were going to be together now. She was his.

Lydia pulled her head back suddenly, quick to push Calvin's hands off her lower back as the humiliation of her circumstance hit her full force. All of her friends were staring at her, their mouths agape.

"That was a nice kiss," Malia told her, unafraid of her own thoughts.

Lydia flushed at the direct comment, while Calvin just nodded in agreement, leaning his chin against his hand thoughtfully. His smile was wide and genuine.

When she finally looked at Stiles, she saw him quietly staring down at his food, jabbing his fork lazily into his noodles while his cheek leaned against a closed fist.

She felt Calvin lean in to whisper to her, "Pick you up at seven."

x-x-x

Beacon Hills wins the lacrosse game by a landslide, and everyone is exhilarated. Already, families are packing up to make their way home with young children while the players and students just get their nights started, heading for the same destination with bouncy upbeat moods. Girls gather with their closest friends, giggling with scrunchy colorful curls and skin-tight shorts in stereotypical teenage fashion. Couples reunite, holding hands and cheering as they meet up with the rest of their friends.

Lydia isn't feeling the spirit so much as everyone else, but she still manages a smile at Calvin and even applause when Beacon Hills is declared the champs. Kira, Malia and Lydia collectively shouted encouragements at their favorite lacrosse players and screamed whenever they scored a goal.

Now she was waiting at Calvin's car for him to come back from the restroom. He missed the last ten minutes of the game, but there was no doubt he heard chatter in the bathroom about their victory. As Lydia waited, she realized that he'd been gone a lot longer than he should have been, so she shot him a quick text.

"Lydia!" Kira shouted from where she stood with Malia on the grass. They made their way through the first few parking spaces in the lot until they were in front of the redhead. "How _amazing_ was that game!?" The dark haired teen laughs happily.

"I'm starting to understand what I'm seeing!" Malia declared proudly, tugging on the strings of her sweat jacket.

"That's great," Lydia feigned happiness.

"Do you need a ride to the party?" Kira frowned as she took in the fact that the girl was standing here alone. "We're meeting up with Scott and Stiles now."

Lydia couldn't just leave Calvin behind, and being a fifth wheel was not on the menu for tonight. She was supposed to have a date, and she wasn't going to be miserably sitting in the corner alone like the last few parties the group dragged her to. No one ever noticed her, and she spent more than half of her nights at them getting hit on by the creepiest guy there. So she settled for a,

"No, Calvin's taking me." Lydia's eyes flickered toward the small building the nearest bathroom was situated, right near the boy's locker room. "He's just in the bathroom."

Kira bounces onto her tippy toes, her face growing bright and pink. "Aw, how sweet!" She pulls gently on Malia's arm. "We'll see you there, then! Maybe you'll play beer pong with me and Scott."

Lydia lifts one delicate eyebrow at the Kitsune. Kira was going to play beer pong?

Seeing the reaction she got, Kira rolls her eyes playfully. "Scott wants to show me. He thinks it would be funny. But I'll let you in on a secret," Kira cups her hand over her mouth like she's whispering. "I've got fantastic aim."

"Let's _go_, Kira!" Malia begs, growing bored with this conversation.

Finally relenting, Kira throws a wave at Lydia and jogs behind Malia across the parking lot to Scott and Stiles. They quickly disappear out of Lydia's field of vision.

After absorbing the past minute of discussion, more words than Lydia had spoken all day, she spun back around to scan the area. There were some scattered last minute teens, grabbing their things and shuffling into their rightful cars or hanging around doing nothing; but for the most part, this side of the school was very empty.

Now that Kira and Malia cleared out, she could finally go find Calvin. They were going to be late to the party. Not that it really mattered. What would she be missing really; her friends all making out with each other? Getting pointed and laugh at by Regan Fisher? Watching Stiles be with someone else and be so damned happy about it?

Lydia approached the men's restroom warily. She couldn't just walk right in, someone could be there. Her knuckles grazed the door.

A disruptive sound makes her jump involuntarily, the squeaking of wet hands along a porcelain sink and the hushed noise of what could be whispering.

"Calvin?" Lydia knocked the back of her fingers along the wooden surface of the men's restroom. She didn't know if anyone else was in there, or if it was really just him. As she slowly pushed the door open, just a crack, she listened carefully for any movement,

"_Stupid, stupid, stupid…"_It was unmistakably Calvin, who was angrily smacking his hands against the sink and getting water all over his hands.

Lydia peered around the bathroom door, remaining unseen by the hyperventilating boy whose head was looking down at the dripping faucet, unseeing of her clear reflection in the mirror directly in front of him. His face was bright red, drops of saliva flying from his mouth as he panicked. "STUPID!" He slams his hands against the sink again, then reaching up to start tugging at his wet hair, curled from the perspiration he'd released in his sweaty red haze. Calvin tears at his strands, crying to himself in complete desolation.

Lydia wants to back away. She wants to leave the bathroom right now and she wants to be anywhere but standing behind him. But she was entirely in the room now, and with any movement to sudden he would catch her. He'd know she saw something she clearly wasn't supposed to. Was this what Forrest was warning her about? Did Calvin suffer from some delusions? Did he have some kind of anxiety problem; was he bipolar or something? She really didn't know what kinds of questions to ask herself, but right now she didn't want to know. Lydia wanted to get away from this room, and she wanted to collect her thoughts. But he couldn't know she _saw_.

Her heart squeezed and pulsated painfully when she saw Calvin's breath catch. He was holding it. Lydia couldn't help the panicked gasp that escaped her lips, her nails digging sharply into the palms of her hands when his head slowly lifted upwards. His steady gaze caught hers in the mirror.

"_Calvin_," Lydia shuddered a breath, shaking violently. She had no idea what was happening or what Calvin was experiencing. But he did not look happy with her.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" He demanded with ferocity, all at once abruptly turning to rush toward her like a storm and grab her arms roughly. He swallows hard, his face contorting like he can't control himself. "Are you watching me?" He's below a whisper now, threatening and demonic.

"_No, no…" _Lydia insisted, the frightened horror she felt transmitting through her squeaking voice. Pride was nothing to her in this moment. "I…" She attempted, her jaw chattering more intensely than she wanted it to. It was difficult to speak, to even _think_ properly when her heart was hammering the way it was, when his hands were clutching her upper-arms. "I was _w-w_…" she takes a small breath to calm herself. "Worried."

His eyebrows furrow. "Worried?"

"You were gone a while so I came looking for you. We were going to the party…" she trails off quietly. "Remember?"

Calvin's hands release her suddenly, and she gasps as he does, taking a few cautionary steps backwards. His eyes stare somewhere behind her, at the dirty tiled wall. "I must've forgotten." He blinks a few times, like he's waking up somehow. "Are you ready to go, then?"

Lydia's eyes bulge at him, she can't help it. His personality completely switched, like the last minute didn't happen and he didn't scare the hell out of her. She was still shaking even now, flustered and pasty-skinned. She couldn't even answer properly, because she was just too shocked by it all. Instead, she nodded, because she wasn't sure what would happen if she tried to walk away.

x-x-x

Lydia would feel okay once she was with her friends. That was what she kept repeating to herself beside Calvin in his car, holding onto the seatbelt like it was most dear to her, her heart still fluttering painfully in her chest as the car rolled along a residential neighborhood. It was dark out, just like the mood inside of the car. She was uncomfortable, and frankly, still a little scared.

Calvin sniffled, turning his wheel to the right to turn onto the correct street. "Why are you being so quiet?" He asked firmly, his eyes speaking with judgment when he glanced sideways at her.

Lydia fumbled with her words for a second, "I wasn't! I-…" _Breathe_. "I'm just thinking about the girl whose house this party is at. She used to be my best friend and… she's not so nice to me now." It was a good an answer as any, and it still managed to be true. There was no way he couldn't believe her. With the nod of acknowledgment she received, she knew she made the right choice. He seemed to be able to detect her lies and the truth.

"That makes sense," Calvin chews on his lower lip, and then reaches a hand over to graze Lydia's gently. She stiffens at first, but forces her body to relax. She just needs to get to her friends. "You know if you don't wanna go…"

"No! I do!" Lydia can't help how quickly she answers. "It's okay, I still want to go." She lifts her lips at him. "It's a victory party, after all!"

"Can't miss that," Calvin teases wholeheartedly.

When Calvin and Lydia show up at the party, they can hear the DJ playing in the backyard even from the front. Regan's party is as extravagant as always, lavish and filled with activities. Even the inside of the house was a party-zone, a usual no-zone in most high school parties.

As they approach the front door, they pass a drunk teen trying to stop his friend from driving.

"No man, you're _waaaay _too drunk!"

His friend nearly falls onto him, "No man _you're_ drunnnk!"

Lydia is tempted to say something sarcastic when they both fall onto the grass and burst into a fit of giggles, but she holds her tongue. She isn't feeling particularly sassy right now.

Calvin leans over Lydia to knock on the door, and she, annoyed by the motion, places her hands on her hips and blinks upwards animatedly.

"You're cute when you're annoyed," he comments shyly.

Her hands slowly but surely drop to her sides. He was truly hot and cold. "What?"

The door swings open and Regan is standing there smelling like she consumed large amounts of alcohol and her eyes glossy and unfocused. "Oh my godddd!" She lets out a hoot of girlish laughter, flipping her straight blonde hair behind her. She was leggy and thin, standing at 5'10'' in her pink flats. "Lydia, why did you come to my partyyyy?" She drawls drunkenly.

"Everyone's invited," the redhead snapped.

"Everyone not _you_!" She specified, her neck extending unnaturally so she could put her face rudely in Lydia's. "Now get off my property or I'll call the cops!"  
"Yeah, be sure to mention how much you had to drink," Lydia retorted skillfully, folding her arms in a way that suggested she'd never back down.

Regan narrowed her eyes. "Tell you what; you can hang out in the backyard only. But you can't come inside," she wagged her finger at Lydia for effect, sliding against the door, completely and totally intoxicated.

"That's not very nice," Calvin clucked his tongue at the blonde.

"_Well_," Regan slides her right leg up, rubbing it against the thigh of her left leg. "_You _can come inside." She pulls on the collar of Calvin's shirt to tug him indoors, but he gently and firmly removes her fingers and moves back to stand beside Lydia.

"Fuck you Regan, just let us in!" The redhead spouts in frustration

"N-O," Regan spells out, clearly enjoying every moment of Lydia's torture. "Take the backyard or I'll have my boyfriend remove you from the premises himself."

"What's so bad about the backyard, Lydia?" Calvin suggests giving in. "There's tons of people outside; it has to be cramped inside."

Lydia chewed on her lip sadly. Her friends were probably inside with the cold alcohol instead of hanging around by the DJ with red cups. "Backyards fine," she grumbles, stomping her way down the porch steps and walking through the side-gate of the house in humiliation. Calvin runs to catch up with her.

"I can get us some drinks?" Calvin offers helpfully, feeling the positive vibe of celebrating teenagers as they enter the bustling backyard. The music is much louder now, almost intimidatingly so.

"Okay go do that." Lydia brushes him off, wagging her hand at him like shooing a bug.

He regards her with suspicious eyes for a moment, but does as he's told and makes his way through the crowd to locate the source of the alcohol.

Lydia scans the party-goers hurriedly. She wants to find one of them before he gets back. If she can find one of them, one of them can lead her to Stiles. She wants to talk to him. He said he was always there for her. He said that and she needed him _now_. He was the only one she could comfortably tell about Calvin's strange behavior and how uncomfortable it was making her. Something about him made her not want to confront him directly, and she hated that. She _hated_ that _anyone_ was capable of making her feel the need to be quiet.

She peers through the windows of the house, and her eyes fall on Kira. The Kitsune's head is reeled backwards as she clearly laughs at something she finds hysterical. She playfully hits whoever is next to her, revealed a second later to be Scott by the tilt of a head. They're sharing half a bottle of vodka, and Kira's face makes a bitter twist as she takes each sip.

Immediately, Lydia knows she needs to get inside the house. If she just strides through the backdoor, no one could really stop her. As long as she avoided Regan, which wouldn't be hard considering how wasted she was, she'd be okay. She just had to be in there long enough to grab Stiles and get him somewhere they could talk. It was frightening, because Lydia was putting her heart on her sleeve by doing this. She was going to trust him with her feelings again.

It was pretty easy to follow behind another two people when they entered the house, detaching from them when they hung a left. Lydia finally locates the spot Kira and Scott were just standing in, but they aren't there anymore. "God damn it," she mutters to herself. Of course this would happen. "Hey John!" She stops a familiar face.

"Hey Lydia," he looks back at his friends briefly, who are all chuckling at the sight of him talking to Lydia, currently town's weird-o after a lot of circulating rumors about her being schizophrenic.

"Have you seen Kira and Scott? Or Stiles and Malia?"

The lacrosse player scratches his chin as he considers what he's going to tell Lydia. "Yeah, Kira and Scott were here a minute ago. They headed down to the basement to play beer-pong."

"What about Stiles and Malia?" She presses urgently.

John tosses his friends one more look and regards Lydia, admiring her body without any attempt to be discrete about it. "They're upstairs," he tells her calmly. "First room on the left."

Lydia's eyes are sour now, "_Thanks_," she answers almost sarcastically, bitterly heading for the steps as his friends whistle and howl behind her mockingly.

"What do the voices in your head tell you?" One of the boys shouted at her back, receiving rewarding high fives from John and a friend beside him at the hilarious insult.

Lydia ignored the stinging in her eyes, focusing at the task at hand. There wasn't any time to give some stupid jocks the satisfaction of seeing her in pain from something they said. They couldn't have the power to do that.

"Stiles?" Lydia pushed the door open, her entire being freezing when she realized it was a bedroom. Unfortunately, that didn't hit her until she saw the bed and the two people making out on top of it.

The pair broke apart in embarrassment. Stiles' eyes lifted in annoyance. "Jesus, Lydia. Knock much?" He pulled his shirt back over his head, finding the moment suddenly destroyed. It had begun so perfectly. Malia had coaxed him upstairs after spending the last half hour grinding on him to the bump of the music, whispering dirty things into his ears and getting him thoroughly turned on. His fingers had just begun to graze the skin below her shorts, her lips had just begun to kiss _that_ spot right under his ear (after telling her he liked it), and then Lydia Martin was busting through the door like she _had_ that right.

"I didn't realize," Lydia started, a fogginess settling and clouding her senses. Were they about to have sex? "I didn't…" She spins around, her cheeks growing bright red. "I just wanted to talk to you," her voice breaks as the tears fill her eyes again.

"Like you didn't know where the bedroom was in your best friend of 10 years' house." Stiles wasn't buying any of it. "Not cool, Lydia."

Lydia couldn't believe him. What in the world did he think she was trying to do? _Stop_ them from having sex? Other than the obvious, she had no reason to do that, and really had no desire to! If they were going to boink, it was their choice, but she didn't want to know anything about it, especially not see it firsthand. The fact that he was seriously pinning this on her right now, especially when she was about to come to him about something that was bothering her… How dare he?

"Lydia?" Calvin joins them in the room, having been searching for Lydia for the past couple of minutes. The situation, _somehow_, got even more awkward.

Stiles' mouth was agape, looking between the pair like they had two heads. "Uhhh," he wavers his hands frantically. "GET OUT?" To state the obvious.

Malia is ready to explode with anger at Lydia Martin and her dumb weirdo boyfriend intruding on an intimate moment that belonged strictly to her and Stiles. Stiles' naked chest was hers and she didn't want the prying banshee's eyes on his body in any shape or form. If she could stop him from looking at his face, she would've clawed out her eyes ages ago. Unfortunately, that was against some stupid human 'friend' code.

Calvin is still staring in surprise when Lydia runs out of the room.

"CALVIN!" Stiles almost roars.

The raven-haired green-eyed teen snaps his head to look at Stiles, like he's only seeing him for the first time.

"Freakin' leave!"

When Calvin finds Lydia crying in the backyard, he isn't as bewildered as he feels he should be. And that bothers him tremendously. She doesn't even seem to care that he can see her, that she looks like a fool crying about some other boy in front of her _boyfriend_… How dare she? Calvin's eyes trailed over Lydia's broken figure. He was going to show her not to mess with his heart like this, not to mock him with her feelings for someone else.

"Let me drive you home," Calvin advised, his hand reaching out to comfort her, rubbing his thumb along her cheek to wipe away the tear that leaked out.

She sobbed in response, her face a puffy mess of streaky mascara and cheeks moistened by tears. Calvin's thumb trailed down her face slowly, pausing once he reached her plump ruby red lips. His eyes stopped there too.

"What are you-…"

"Sh," he silences her, his index finger pressing the motion against her lips. While licking his own, Calvin rubbed his thumb over her smooth lips; smearing the red along the paleness of her ivory skin. It spread heavily, the clay-like clumps caught on Lydia's chin and the corner of her lips. His eyes darkened considerably. "You're so beautiful."

When she's finally sitting in the passenger seat of his car, Lydia's feeling a little bit calmer, though her anxiety is rising and falling periodically. She's rubbed the rest of her lipstick off with a napkin, still momentarily stunned by his earlier actions when running his thumb over her mouth. She'd looked like a vampire with the redness smeared across her mouth and chin, sticking like dried blood, messy and scandalous.

He's driving her home silently for a good 5 minutes before Calvin begins to act up. "You were crying," he says, an edge to his tone.

Lydia's eyes flutter over the dashboard nervously. "I was just a little upset," she excuses, folding her hands together and squeezing tightly. She has that strong urge to scream again.

"A little, hm?" His eyes are on her accusingly for a long five seconds before he returns to the road. "You seemed pretty fucked up to me."

"I don't know, maybe."

"Maybe?" Calvin shoots back abruptly. "How do you not know?"

"_I don't know_ it just happened really fast."

"What did?" He snarls. "Running to Stiles? Finding him in bed with Malia?"

"I wasn't running to him," she whispers in quiet defense.

"Oh no?" He clenches the wheel tightly, the speed of the car picking up slightly along with his anger, unraveling faster than she'd anticipated. "I finally treated you like you've wanted me to, finally took control, and you go and you _run_ to Stiles. That's exactly what you did, don't lie to me Lydia."

"You kind of freaked me out after this morning!" Lydia shouts suddenly. She isn't going to take this crap from any person, especially not a man, trying to take control of _her _life. It's hers. It was always hers and he isn't going to take her own power away after a god damned week. Her self-esteem wasn't _that_ low. "I'm not going to let you treat me this way! Why did you grab me like that, Calvin? And then act like nothing happened?"

"You're my girlfriend, Lydia," Calvin's teeth are grinding the car moving faster now.

"I'm not, Calvin. I never was. We're friends, we have been… We can be friends again if you explain yourself and you stop… being like this."

"Stop lying!" Calvin demands angrily, smacking his fist against the wheel. "Tell me you're my girlfriend, that you're not in love with Stiles."

"I can't… Calvin."

The car goes faster now, approaching 70 mph.

"Calvin, slow down."

"Say it," he sneers roughly, the muscles in his arms flexing and twitching as he maintained a tight grip on the wheel, his face breaking into a sweat as he slams his foot on the gas. "SAY IT!"

"Calvin, please!" Lydia cries, her feet splayed against the ground and her hands outspread, panic and terror taking complete control of her body as she experiences an anxiety attack. "CALVIN PULL OVER!" Lydia pleads, wetness spreading down her bright cheeks, her lips curling as her body shakes with a hysterical cry. "I'm your girlfriend, Calvin!" She sobs. "I'm not in love with Stiles, I'm not I swear!" Her head is shaking at a fast-pace, her hair swinging around her shoulders at the speed she does it. "I'm not, I'm not…" she repeats in a mantra.

Calvin doesn't slow down, though he acknowledges her statement. He keeps his foot on the pedal as they approach a very large brick wall, hearing the banshee let loose a scream that only someone of supernatural ability could let loose. It hurts his ears so badly that he almost forgets to switch to the brake to give him enough time to stop the car before they really do hit the wall.

The car lurches and screeches, loosing traction and skidding along the road until it stops with a sudden jerk, the bumper inches from hitting the wall. Lydia falls forward in her seat, the seatbelt the only thing stopping her from slamming he her head against the dashboard as the airbags deploy.

After taking several large gulps of air, she turns her head to look at Calvin.

He lets out a heavy choke of air and then reveals a set of pearly white teeth to Lydia as he grins mischievously, like a child playing a prank on its mother. "That was all you had to say."

As a crowd forms around the car to see if they're alright, Lydia faints.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I'm so evil for what Lydia went through this chapter! But I really hope I didn't disappoint any of you with it. Let me know what you think please!**

**Special thanks to these people:**

Guest Tina

Guest Nicole

A Lady of Time

Australia Meets Germany

lorena

chrissyx3

Ruxi23

Amnex

LoginorSignup

gossgal33

Kenzicolas

Livinginthesprawlii

And all anonymous reviewers!

You're all fantastic(=


	5. We Must Be Killers

_**We Must Be Killers**_

"_I woke up; I was stuck in a dream._

_You were there, you were tearing up everything._

_We all know how to fake it, baby._

_We all know what we've done."_

Four

The confusion Lydia felt when she woke up was the most indescribable feeling in the world. She was in her own bed, in her own room with not the slightest idea of how she got there. Everything was a blur, she couldn't remember passing out. Calvin was driving fast to frighten her, and she could remember him stopping just before the wall. It was only once she told him that she didn't love Stiles, that she was with him.

She was still in her dress and most of her foundation was still on her face, though smeared in places, which told her that it was still the same night. One look out her window didn't do anything, as it was pitch black except for a few dim street-lights. Had Calvin brought her home?

"Lydia?" Natalie knocked gently on her daughter's bedroom before opening it slowly. "I see you're finally up."

"What happened?" Lydia's eyes flickered. There was no way she could know the truth about the last few hours, it was impossible. Calvin wouldn't tell her mom what he did and no one had really been around to witness it.

"You fell asleep in Calvin's car while he was driving you home," Natalie explained easily, taking a seat on the end of Lydia's bed, brushing off some invisible dust. "He brought you upstairs," she smiled softly. "He seems just like you told me he was. Very polite boy."

Lydia nearly winces at the comment. "Right."

Natalie approaches her daughter now, sadness in her eyes as she places a hand on Lydia's cheek, brushing over her bright hair. "You're so grown up."

Lydia's heart swells, but she blinks away the tears that spring to her eyes.

As Natalie moves to leave the room, she stops in the doorway, turning suddenly like she remembered something. "Oh, you might want to call Stiles and Scott back. They've been ringing your mobile for hours."

"Did something happen?" Lydia can't help but think of the worst possible scenario. Someone probably died, more than likely a friend.

"I didn't answer, and I didn't want to wake you," Natalie confesses sheepishly. "I took it downstairs so the sound wouldn't wake you," she pulls it from her pocket and hands it over.

"You could've just put it on vibrate you know," Lydia couldn't help but point out as she scrolls her finger through the list of missed calls. 6 from Scott, 16 from Stiles and 2 from Kira. The only person she can stand to talk to right now is Scott, so she presses her thumb over his picture.

As Natalie closes the door behind her to offer Lydia some privacy, the familiar click of a call being connected draws Lydia's attention away from the door.

"Lydia!?" Scott's voice barks immediately.

"Scott, is everything okay!?" Her heart leaps.

"You tell me," he growls angrily. "Malia and I heard you screaming and we couldn't find you anywhere. You weren't answering your phone and we didn't have Calvin's number…" he trails off as something more important comes up. "Are you okay?"

Lydia presses her hands over her face. She was relieved that no one was hurt, but horrified that she'd had everyone in a panic for hours. Scott's concern was only drudging up the horrible reminder of the endless time she spent in Calvin's car. "Yes, I'm _fine_," she insists gruffly. It feels weird, Scott worrying. He hasn't even acknowledged her well-being in so long, it was almost an unfamiliar state of mind. Being worried about. "I'm okay."

"Tell her I'm gonna kill her," she could hear Stiles say somewhere in the background. The sharpness of his voice was a dead giveaway of how angry he was with her for leaving them without a trace.

"Easy," Scott tells Stiles, holding the phone away from them like it made a difference. "Lydia? We're coming over."

"No!" She can't handle any more stress. She just wants to curl up in her bed and fade into nothing. "That's not necessary. I swear, Scott. I'm okay."

There's shuffling as Stiles snatches the phone away from Scott, leaving no room for argument. "Then why wouldn't you answer your phone for _four_ hours? Why did you leave the party? You didn't even tell any of us."

"Why is it my responsibility to tell you when I'm leaving a party?" Lydia shot back with just as much attitude. "_Calvin_ was my date, remember?" She reminds him with a strong surge of bitterness at the fact that it wasn't Stiles she went with, and even more at the very sound of Calvin's name after the emotional trauma he just put her through.

It's silent for a pause, like Stiles doesn't know what to say. "You didn't answer any of our calls! And why the hell did you scream in the first place!?" They were the only points she refused to acknowledge thus far; because they were good questions, and she didn't have excuses for them yet. She should've thought about this, she should've realized it was a banshee scream she let loose.

"I just… sensed the death of someone that was standing near me… Some old guy. He had a heart attack," Lydia babbles away. "It was nothing else."

"So now you get banshee screams over random strangers_? That's great_," she can hear Stiles' exasperated sarcasm. "That still doesn't tell us why you didn't _answer_ your damn _phone_, Lydia! Do you know how hard it is to panic and search and take care of an extremely wasted werecoyote at the same time?"

Lydia lifted her eyebrows at Stiles' rant.

"_Malia tried to eat a rabbit_!"

"Gross!" Scott shudders in the background. "You definitely didn't tell me that."

"Malia got drunk and ate a rabbit?" Lydia squeaked.

"_Tried_, people," Stiles annunciates. "Tried; as in _didn't_." Stiles huffs and rubs his hand over the back of his neck, the exhaustion getting to him.

"I fell asleep in Calvin's car and I just woke up… I'm sorry you guys were worried."

"You're with Calvin right now?" Stiles' eyebrows knit together and he checks the time. They're still together and it's nearly 3 AM. He really hoped that wasn't the case.

"No he brought me up to my room apparently."

"Apparently?" Stiles' ears perk up. "As in, you don't know? Creepy Easley brought an unconscious you to your room where he could take advantage of you?"

Lydia appreciated his attempt at concern, but she didn't need it. He didn't have to act like he cared when she knew he didn't. "You're overreacting."

"He didn't change your clothes, did he?"

"_No! _Stiles, stop jumping to conclusions," The redhead warns.

"Just covering all the bases," Stiles reassures, trying to soothe the tiger back to sleep before it chomps its jaws on him. "Can you really be mad at me for wanting you to be safe?" He asks softly.

She freezes, for just a moment believing that he could really mean it. Then she makes a decision. "Stiles, the truth is –"

"Shit!" The boy in question cusses. "Malia is vomiting again," he passes the phone to Scott without another word, rushing over to his girlfriend who is about to fall out of the jeep. He catches her in time, supporting her against the car as she leans over the side to spit up alcohol onto the grass.

"Nasty," Scott mumbles. "Stiles is probably gonna have to stick with Malia for a while, but I can come over?"

Lydia feels like she's been stabbed with a knife, but she marches on. "I told you I'm fine. I'll talk to you at school tomorrow." She's more monotone now, unable to keep up with her usual level of fake enthusiasm. The gravity weighing down her shoulders was far too much tonight.

"Tomorrow's Saturday…" Scott takes mental note of the fact that its 3 am. "Well, today."

"Then I'll see you on Monday!" Lydia snaps, growing weary of this game of ping-pong. She wants to stop thinking and go back to being unconscious.

"Okay…" Scott answers meekly, not having expected her to give him an attitude out of thin air.

Lydia is quick to end the conversation after that, hurriedly saying goodbye and waiting until she heard his very uncertain "Bye?" before pressing 'end call' and collapsing backwards onto her bed. She really hoped Calvin didn't contact her tomorrow. Well, today. Unfortunately, she wasn't quite that lucky.

x-x-x

It was after noon when Kira invited her to lunch, just the two of them. Lydia immediately went to say no, but felt inclined to agree to the meeting. Kira had been the nicest to her among all their friends. She was new and didn't know Lydia very well, there was no doubt about it, but she was genuine and real and there was a real chance at friendship there. But she still wasn't Allison.

As Lydia grabbed a pair of heels from under her bed, her hands brushed against that same cardboard box that Chris Argent had given her. Allison's last message. A chill went through her body as she considered what could be in that box, but logically, she knew it was probably just a few pictures and trinkets. Nevertheless, they'd still make her cry senseless. It was the biggest reason it remained untouched, other than it being the last thing she could hold onto that was Allison. When she opened it… when she knew what was inside… There would be nothing of Allison left to be explored. No future, no words she'd every say again.

She let the anguish consume her as she did her hair and makeup and even as she entered the diner. Briefly muttering to the hostess that she was meeting up with a friend, she located Kira in the far corner immersed in her new game boy, a present from Scott. It was old and cheap, but she adored it. He told her she was going to love it and she hadn't believed him, but now she knew how right he was.

"Playing Mario again, I see," she teases as she slides in across from her.

Kira's dark curled hair frames her face and falls gently in front of her shoulders as she jerks at the unexpected noise. Upon seeing Lydia, she shoves the device into her pocket like it means nothing. "Lydia!" She's surprised to see her. If she were being honest, she'd admit that she didn't think the girl would show up. Though Lydia was generally very punctual, she'd admittedly been off lately. "You look awesome."

Lydia certainly didn't think so. She was barely able to look at her own reflection when she did her makeup this morning. She was too humiliated, and the circles under her eyes were only telling of the restless night she had. "I just threw this together."

"I wish I could 'throw myself together' and look half that good," she compliments, her eyes bright as she leans in to sip her milkshake.

Usually, Lydia reveled in compliments. Being fashionable and beautiful was important to her, and she was always worried about her image. But this time, for some reason, one sweet compliment from a nice girl didn't feel right. In fact, Lydia felt ashamed and embarrassed, like Kira was lying.

Lydia's smile becomes something very serious, her eyes intense as they stare into Kira's. "Do you really think I'm pretty?"

Kira's eyes shoot up, disbelieving at the insecurity held in Lydia's gaze. Lydia was supposed to know she was gorgeous, she was supposed to flaunt it and enjoy her perfect sense of glamour and stylizing. But she was doubting herself, and the Kitsune could see it. "Of course you are."

Realizing how strange she appeared, Lydia cleared her throat and clumsily grabbed for a menu to keep herself busy.

"_Lydia,_" Kira started, firmly placing a hand over Lydia's menu to flatten it on the table so she could see the other girl's face. "Are you okay?"

Lydia is so very thankful when Mary, the friendly 50-something waitress approached, pulling a pen from behind her ear and tossing the cover of her notepad over. "What'll you have, hun?" She asks the banshee, offering a friendly smile.

She can't bear to eat real food, not when her stomach's been killing her since finding Calvin in the men's restroom. The night progressively got worse, finding Malia and Stiles, having a panic attack in Calvin's nearly-crashed car, passing out. Her friends worrying. "I'll just have some water."

"No strawberry smoothie today?" It was surprising that Kira even knew what her usual was.

"I don't –" She was interrupted as Kira gasped audibly, clucking her tongue with a shy smile.

"Look who it _is_," She gestures off somewhere behind Lydia.

The redhead spins around in the booth, peeking her eyes over the top of the seat to see who just entered the diner. It was Calvin, now appearing both better rested and calm, the tired redness from last night no longer rimming his eyelids and drawing his lips downwards, replaced by clear white skin with pink patches along his cheeks. Lydia sinks down in her seat.

"You're not gonna say hi?"

Lydia blows a breath of air as she grows agitated. She doesn't want Calvin to see her, but avoiding him was going to raise a lot of questions. As the waitress places her water on the table, she thinks fast. "We're having girl time. This isn't about boys." The lie comes naturally enough.

"_Oh_," Kira makes a sour face stemmed from guilt. "I didn't realize we weren't allowed to bring people." She shrugs her shoulders uncomfortably. "Scott's here," she declares just as he happens to coincidentally be walking through the glass doors of the main room, then through those doors, leading them to the diner. Kira's voice drops. "And from the looks of it, he brought Stiles."

Lydia huffs as she realizes this day can't possibly get worse. She should've gone with her original instinct upon waking up and buried her head back under the pillow.

As Scott locates Kira, he approaches briskly, slowing down a few paces when he notices the girl with her. "I thought you were with Malia."

Kira blinks at her boyfriend. "I never said I was with Malia."

"You said you were going out with your 'favorite girl' and I just assumed…" his voice fades away as he realizes that Lydia could take offense to that. He glances over at her, relief flooding his body at her plain expression. If she was insulted, she was good at hiding it.

And she was. But she wasn't about to say anything about it.

"Not because Malia is Kira's favorite!" Scott clarifies, fully aware of the fact that he sounds like he's bullshitting his way out of getting in trouble. "It's just that usually when Kira goes to the diner she's with Malia, and Stiles and I show up to do the double date thing."

Lydia lowers her head at them in disbelief. She had no idea that they met up at the diner regularly, just the four of them. In fact, no one had ever even mentioned this to her before. She could see that it was meant to be a secret when all of her friends' faces fell at Scott's accidental reveal. Lydia's jaw tightens at the revelation.

"Wow, you guys." It's the only thing she can think to say.

Stiles runs a hand through his hair nervously. "We just didn't want you to feel left out."

"I didn't even know you and Malia were _dating_."

"We're not," Stiles says quickly. "Well, maybe." He isn't too sure himself.

"Right," Lydia mocks. "So you're just _friends_, then," she challenges him. "Just four friends hanging out at the diner, purposely not inviting _me_."

Stiles desperately looks to Scott for help, "I think I'm saying this wrong."

"No you're saying it perfect, thanks," Lydia spat, eyes frozen on the table. She wasn't even going to look at him. Feeling Kira's concerned eyes on her, she fights the urge to meet her gaze.

The awkward silence that followed only lasted long enough for Calvin to finally approach them. As far as Lydia could tell, he was oblivious to the scene he was walking into, or at least playing it that way. She couldn't be too sure now.

"I knew I saw you walk in, Scott," he greets, nodding at the group. "Mind if I join you guys? I've got a hankering for something nice and juicy." Discreetly, he winks at Lydia from where he stands. The banshee sinks further into her seat, her butt making the polyester squeak.

"Uh, no… not at all." Scott isn't too comfortable with the intrusion, especially when they haven't gotten a chance to explain to Lydia the real reason she wasn't invited to their weekly meal at the diner.

"Why is everyone standing?" Calvin chortles as he scoots in beside Lydia without leaving her much room to argue. As he presses his body against her to indicate her movement, she gives in and slides over until she's trapped in the corner.

Stiles sits across from Lydia to allow Kira and Scott to face each other. Kira sits on Calvin's other side, knowing full well that Scott would be falling onto the floor from the lack of space if he were to be there instead. He shoots her a thankful grin and hands her his menu when he sees she's missing one. In turn, Kira blushes.

Calvin's eyes dart between the two, an amused smile across his mouth. "You two are too much."

"See?" Stiles waves his hand at Scott and Kira in an exaggerated fashion. "Calvin barely knows you and he's sick of it. Do the rest of us a favor," he says it jokingly, but secretly means it. Kira and Scott were very into the PDA and it was almost sickening how sweet they were with each other.

Scott knows Stiles means it, but he also knows the reason he feels that way is because he simply doesn't understand what it's like to be with someone who you love, someone who loves you back. Malia was his first real relationship, and it was the perfect first relationship to have. He was learning a lot about women and he really cared for the werecoyote, but it was just a high school relationship. It didn't mean anything real, not like Scott and Kira.

"Hey, don't pin this all on us!" Kira points a finger at Stiles. "How about that smooch Lydia landed on Calvin in the middle of the lunch room the other day?"

Lydia flushes, becoming anxious as everyone's eyes are suddenly on her. She wanted to be noticed, but not like this. "No, that wasn't… isn't like you guys at all!" She's extremely flustered and all of them can tell. "We're not -" Calvin's fingernails dig into her upper thigh as a warning and she lets out a small squeak from the painful sensation.

Stiles lowers his head at her questioningly. "Lydia?"

Her eyes flicker closed for a brief second, but she pushes back any emotion. "I was going to say that we aren't gross about it," she finished quietly. Lydia feels Calvin's grip loosen, but his hand remains on her leg, the feeling burning through the thin fabric of her skirt while the finger pad of his thumb runs over the exposed skin at the hem.

Kira doesn't miss her use of the present tense, but decides not to push it in front of everyone else. She'll text her about it later. "Are you gonna order anything?" She turns to Scott.

"Lydia," Stiles whispers, quickly catching her attention. She glances up at him, still uncomfortably distracted by Calvin's exploring hand. "Are you okay?" She just blinks at him with wide eyes, unable to form coherent thoughts at the moment. "You look like you're in pain."

"Everything okay?" Calvin chimes in, playing clueless as he leans his chin into his free hand.

Stiles shoots Calvin a glare for intruding. It was unnecessary for him to reiterate the exact thing he just asked.

Lydia's heart clenches painfully when she meets Calvin's expectant eyes. "Yeah, I just didn't get much sleep last night."

Stiles' arms flex as he leans his elbows onto the table, the sudden movement making Lydia's cup of water shake gently. "I thought you fell asleep in Calvin's car. You were passed out for hours; that's why you didn't answer your phone." His eyes narrow at her. "Remember?"

Calvin's eyes burn into the side of her head, waiting for her next excuse.

"I-I meant because I woke up at 3 AM and spent the next ten minutes on the phone with you panicking losers!" It was a good save, but Lydia felt her body burning up as she broke into a nervous sweat.

"We wouldn't have been panicking if you hadn't screamed," Stiles says under his breath, knowing full well that the banshee still heard him.

Lydia gasps when Calvin's fingers slide under her skirt to brush against the edge of her panties, and she purposefully stands, bumping her legs against the table. "I need to go the bathroom," she breathes, shoving past Calvin and nearly knocking Kira over in her haste to get out of there.

"What was that about?" Scott watches Lydia speed walk out of their view.

"Maybe she still has her period," Kira suggests lowly, eyes lighting up as she decides what she wants for lunch.

"Why do we keep asking questions?" Stiles sighs, faking a shiver for dramatic effect.

They spend the next few minutes ordering their food, and when the waitress leaves it's relatively quiet again. It feels a little awkward having Calvin be there without Lydia. None of them knew him very well.

Scott drums his finger along the edge of the table as he considers something. "I was gonna wait for Lydia to get back, but I might as well bring it up now." He grins at Stiles. "Y0u know how the islander trip is next weekend?"

"What's that?" Calvin interrupts.

"Oh, uh…" Scott was hoping Lydia's _friend_ wouldn't intervene, because it was probably going to result in him inviting himself. Or Lydia inviting him. Either way, he wanted this trip to be about their pack. "Every year the environmental club gets the nature society to host a trip for our school. It's an outdoors thing, camping and the wilderness and all that. It's supposed to be educational; we're getting challenges and stuff like that." He glances at Stiles as he explains to Calvin, "We've never done it before, but I made everyone sign up this time. Lydia was the hardest to convince."

"While Malia can't wait," Stiles laughs.

"That sounds awesome."

"Yeah," Stiles frowns. He wasn't going to come, right? It was way too late to sign a permission slip and pay the fee, anyway. It had to be.

"What were you saying, Scott?" Kira reminds, setting the discussion back on track.

Scott nods gratefully. "Kira and I did a little research and we found this grove near the campsite. There's this huge lake there and I thought it would be fun if we snuck away from the class and did our own thing for a while."

A grin forms across Stiles' face. "You dirty boy, Scott! Please tell me there will be alcohol involved in this scenario."

"Heaps of it," Kira informs him enthusiastically. "Since I've already proven that I can handle my liquor, I challenge you, Scott McCall, to a drink-off at the lake next weekend."

"You are so _on_," Scott laughs, squeezing the girls hand from across the table.

Lydia returns a moment later, her makeup reapplied and her face refreshed. She motions to move in beside Kira so that she isn't forced beside Calvin again, but unfortunately Kira doesn't get the message.

"Oh, it's okay! I'll move." Kira hops off the seat like she's doing Lydia a favor, allowing her to sit beside her... Whatever he was.

"Thanks," Lydia mumbles, scooting into the booth.

"Scott was just telling us about the _islander_ trip," Calvin annunciates, wrapping his arm around her and squeezing her shoulder. His eyes are intense where they focus on her face. "You didn't tell me about that."

"It must've slipped my mind," Lydia averts his gaze. She really did forget about the trip, but even if she had remembered she certainly wouldn't have invited him. "Do-do you wanna come?" She knew his answer even before the large smile broke out across his face.

"That's a great idea!" He insists, pressing his lips to her cheek in a chaste kiss.

Stiles sucks his cheeks into his mouth and says nothing.

"It might be too late, though," Lydia tells him gently. "We were supposed to have our slips submitted over two weeks ago, right?"

He frowns. "Well I wasn't here two weeks ago. They'll make an exception for my case, I'm sure." Calvin runs a finger through a curl in her hair. "Don't worry your pretty red head about it."

"Wow, you guys really are as bad as Scott and Kira," Stiles declares plainly.

Calvin shoots him a stare. "If _your_ girlfriend doesn't want to show you affection in public, maybe _you're_ the one with the problem."

Lydia couldn't count the amount of awkward moments she ran into today on one hand.

x-x-x

The weekend passes quickly enough. Lydia uses her time wisely, avoiding enough human contact to finish her homework for the rest of the month. Whenever she'd receive a call or text, she was abrupt about answering. When Scott called on Saturday to apologize for leaving her out of their weekend lunches, she brushed it off and hung up on him before he had a chance to finish the rest of his sentence.

The simple fact that Calvin hadn't tried to get in touch with her had her on edge. He'd been speaking to her every day, but he was quiet for the whole weekend. It made her think that maybe he'd gotten sick of her, maybe he decided to leave her alone. As much as that thought comforted her, Lydia didn't think it could be that easy. She missed the way he was when they first met, she wanted _that_ friend back. Now she was alone again.

It was Sunday night, and she was lying on her stomach reading one of her favorite science magazines. Her mother was meeting her lawyer out for a drink because they did that sometimes, but Lydia didn't believe it was just about catching up. They were probably talking about her father and what they were going to do. It was thoughtful of Natalie to leave her daughter out of the issue, but Lydia's stomach felt sick when she considered the stress her mother was under.

The distant chirping of crickets was nearly putting her to sleep when Lydia heard the faint sound of someone knocking on the front door. She sighs and shuts the book, shoving it under the bed beside _that_ box and jogs down the stairs.

Lydia swings the door open without a second thought, pieces of red hair wrapping back at the sudden burst of wind. It is dark aside from the street-lights, and the lone fixture illuminating her porch. There's no one there, and Lydia feels a chill travel up her arms. In her supernatural experience, nothing good was about to happen. Her phone was upstairs.

She slams the door shut, twisting the lock and running for the stairs to her bedroom like her life depended on it. All the while she told herself that it could be nothing, that a couple of kids were ding-dong ditching her without the actual ding-dong. Maybe someone was visiting her neighbors and approached the wrong house, realized they're mistake and left. She shakes her head at herself, what were the chances of that? The most logical explanation was that it was Calvin, but she didn't want to think he could be the kind of person to do that.

When she finally reaches for her phone, she realizes how paranoid she would appear. If she were to call Scott and tell him she was frightened because someone _knocked_ on her door, she'd sound completely insane. It wasn't like she could tell him about Calvin. Instead, she decided to hold it tightly in her hand in case something really did happen.

Which is why she jumped a foot in the air when her phone start ringing, scaring the complete hell out of the girl. Despite it being Stiles, she's fast answering because she doesn't want to be standing here alone anymore.

"Hey," she says breathlessly. "What's up?"

"I'm at your house," There's some kind of interference breaking his voice up, a shuffling static underneath the tone. The phone crackles as it breaks up again, "…-et me in."

"What? Why?" Lydia's eyes narrow. He must've been trying to scare her.

"Just let me in!" He hangs up, the phone disconnecting before she got her answers.

With a heavy grown, Lydia straightens her nightgown and returns to the front door. She's struck by déjà vu when she opens the door to find it mysteriously clear of any human presence.

Lydia growls as she returns Stiles' call.

"Y'ello?" He answers cheerily, the annoying sound of him chewing on something hard flitting through the receiver and into Lydia's ear.

"_Uhhhh_, where the hell _are_ you?" She snaps, frustration hitting her hard. If he was going to play games with her all night she was just going to lock herself in her room until morning and kick him in the balls at school.

Stiles stops mid-chew, his food-filled mouth coming muffled, "I'm home, why?"

Lydia stands in the open doorway of her home gritting her teeth together. She's two seconds from slamming the door and cussing at him, "You said you were outside my house. I'm literally standing in my front doorway and you're not here."

"When did I say that?" He's appalled at the suggestion, because he knows for a fact that he hasn't spoken to Lydia since early on yesterday.

"You called me two seconds ago and told me to let you in," Lydia stomps her foot. "Damn it Stiles, _stop_ messing with me! I'm really not in the mood."

Stiles swallows a large chunk of food down, wincing at the scratching pain it caused. "Lydia, I swear to god, I didn't call you."

Lydia's eyes flicker around her room nervously. No, that wasn't right. She _knows_ he called her. It said it on her caller ID and she heard his voice. He was still playing with her. Why was everyone playing with her? "I…" She has to get away from this phone call, she feels like she can't breathe.

Stiles stands straighter at his kitchen counter, knocking over his quart of lo mein when he places his chopsticks back in the bag to give the girl his full attention. "What's going on?" Lydia isn't making any sense, so he assumes she just woke up from a bad dream and is still a little disoriented. That or she had some kind of banshee prediction that she couldn't decipher.

Lydia wants to answer, to tell him she has to go, but she can't speak. Her breathing is rapid, her chest constricting against her lungs tightly. She's hyperventilating because she thinks she's losing her mind. She drops her phone to the carpet before falling to her knees, gasping for air.

"Lydia!? What's going on?" Stiles' panicked question comes through the speaker, but Lydia can't physically respond.

She rasps heavily, as if that can serve as a response.

"I can hear you," he tells her, biting down on the nail of his index finger. Lydia coughs for oxygen on the other end. He smacks his hand on the counter. "That's it, I'm coming over."

"No," she croaks out. "No."

"We're not arguing about this." He's already snatching his keys from the hook. "I'll be there in five minutes, stay on the line with me." Stiles switches the phone to his left ear, leaning it against his shoulder with his cheek so he can drive.

"Don't come over!" Lydia bellowed, finally able to climb back to her feet.

"You're wasting precious breath, Lydia," he criticized sarcastically. She wasn't going to change his mind.

He hears her mumble, "go to hell," before hanging up on him.

"Ly-Lydia?" He glances down at the screen of his phone to find the call had ended. "Fuck." Tossing the offending object into the passenger seat, he presses his foot on the gas pedal.

The banshee waited in her room for a few more minutes. Despite protesting when Stiles suggested he come over, she was really glad he didn't give in. She didn't want to be alone right now. Even the silence from waiting was too much to bear. The heated insulation of her bedroom was making her too warm, and she wasn't about to open the door, so she opened her window a few measly inches instead.

She was so sure the caller ID said Stiles, but what if she was wrong? What if she was imagining everything; slowly losing her mind? The days following Allison's death, Lydia truly felt like she was going to crumble into herself. That feeling never truly faded but grew easier to bear, repressed into the back of her mind until every now and then when her bottled up emotions overflew and spilled into other aspects of her life, her friendships and her family.

A blood curdling scream resonated from the woods behind her house, spreading through the cracks of her window and sending a chill through Lydia's entire body. It was when this person started crying "Lydia!" that she recognized the voice. It was Stiles. He'd gotten in trouble on the way to her house.

"Stiles," Lydia mutters, making a run for the door. She stops abruptly as her hands close around the knob. What if she was hearing things again? Like their first phone call? Her heart nearly stopped when she considered the possibility that the second phone call had been unreal as well. Was he even coming?

Nevertheless, Lydia braved through it, pulling on her sneakers and bolting through her backdoor, too hurried to bother closing it behind her. It didn't matter if this was all in her head because there was a very real chance that Stiles was actually in pain right now. It had only taken her a split second to weigh the odds and then her mind was made up. Stiles had to be okay. _Fuck_ her stupid fucked up head and the voices whispering inside of it.

"Stiles!" She shouted as she reached the hollow of trees, scoping the area carefully before muddling through it and forcing herself inside the dark maze. "STILES!" She called again, anxiously spinning around rapidly, eyes dilated as they adjust to the shadowed black of night. "Please answer me," she whispers, leaves crunching under her shoes as she runs further in the nest, shrouded by overhanging branches.

She'd nearly forgotten that she had her phone, sniffling in a frightened manner as she rang Stiles' number. If he picked up and he was okay, she was hallucinating all of this. If he didn't answer, this was real and he was in trouble. As sane as she'd like to be, she'd rather, in this moment, be a complete psychopath if it meant Stiles would be alive.

"I'm at your house," he tells her immediately, but the phone crackles like the connection is bad. It makes sense, considering the fact that she's in the middle of the woods right now. The trees were tall and intimidating, likely blocking most of the signal. "…-et me in," the phone fizzes.

Lydia's heart stalls in her chest, her eyes are huge and terrified, her hands shaky as they lower the phone without being consciously aware of it. It was happening again. He was saying the same thing as before. Was this even real?

"Lydia?" He prompts from the other end, not hearing her voice despite the fact that she called him.

She can't take it anymore and a sob comes burbling to the surface, "_Where are you_?" Lydia cries in hysterics, a hand going up to chew on the edge of her palm nervously.

Stiles' heart skips a beat. "I'm here, where are _you_?"

"I'm in the woods."

His eyes stop on the woods behind her house, slamming his car door shut. "Why?"

"I heard…" she swallows hard, her mouth dry and warm. Lydia takes a few steps in the direction of her house, but then stops. She isn't sure if she's facing the right way. "Just come get me, _please_. I think I'm lost."

"It's okay," Stiles breathes, although he can feel his chest burning. "Lydia, I'll find y-…" Static cuts through the line and the call drops.

"Stiles!?" Lydia angrily presses her nails along the buttons on her phone to get the call back. "Come on, give me signal." She feels something brush past her arm and whips around, a squeak of air leaving her lips. "Who's there?" she demands, a tremor shaking her body as the wind grows colder. She's ready to run, she won't be sure which way she's running but she's ready to do it. If she hears another suspicious noise, if something invisible touches her… she's going for it.

"LYDIA!" Stiles screams for her, much like what she'd heard when she heard him being attacked in the woods.

"I'm here!" She answers, uncertain if he is able to hear her. Her voice is hoarse like she's been screaming for hours, quiet because of the emotion she's feeling, a heavy weight like someone standing on your chest.

"LYDIA! Where are you!?" Stiles is still yelling. After the call disconnected a white mist of panic enveloped him whole and he couldn't stop panting. He was close to calling Scott because if she didn't answer him soon then he wouldn't be able to take it anymore. Scott would know what to do, but it would take him some time to get to Lydia's place, and time was exactly what Stiles didn't want to waste.

With everything inside of Lydia, she inhales deeply and then lets out a banshee scream. Not loud enough for the whole town of werewolves to hear, but enough to vibrate through the woods and sway the tops of trees.

Stiles jumps and whirls around to the direction the cry came from. He vaults over an overturned tree trunk and sprints toward the girl, his eyes widening as he sees a flash of red hair moving toward him in the distance. "Lydia!"

When she sees him, she runs toward him on instinct. When his arms wrap around her in a tight hug, she lets it happen without protest. His body is large and protective like no other time they'd been close, especially considering her lack of heels. As he squeezes her against him, Lydia's heart thumps frantically, but she doesn't care if he can feel it beating unevenly against him. She's just so glad he's here.

They stand like that for the shortest 60 seconds of Stiles Stilinski's life. When they finally do part, its only enough to give their bodies some breathing room, their arms still wound each other in a comforting embrace. "You're freezing," Stiles muses hoarsely, running his large hands over her shoulders to warm her up. "Let's get inside."

She doesn't argue as one of his arms loosely remains around her arms as he guides her to the correct path back to her house. His cold breath brushes against the back of her neck, sending a haywire cord of frozen energy through her spine and dipping somewhere that made her feel like she was tingling inside. Lydia spent the rest of the walk back admiring his purposeful expression, unconsciously biting on his lower lip as he works his way through the throng of trees.

When they're sitting in her room, Stiles finally asks, "What the hell happened tonight, Lyds?"

Lydia runs her fingers along her lips thoughtfully and then shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world. "I don't know."

"You said I called you and said I was at your house," he retells as his thoughts go through the events. "Then you were lost in the woods." He motions with his hands like he's trying to figure out what to say. "Can you – just start from the beginning?"

Lydia ponders this, moving to lean against her bottom against the edge of her desk as her lips twist upwards. "Hmm. Okay." she slaps her hands on the creamy skin of her thighs. "Someone knocked on my door but when I answered there was no one there. Then _you_," she points at him. " – call me and say you're outside my house, and to let you in."

"I definitely didn't do that," Stiles says with a shake of his head. "I was eating Chinese food when you called me, asking me where I was. That's the first time I spoke to you today."

"Well then I don't know what to tell you Stiles!" She stands up now and begins to pace. "Maybe…" her eyes flicker over to where he sits on the corner of her bed, watching her in that concerned way he did. "Maybe I'm really losing it, here."

Stiles almost smiles, "You think you're crazy?" He asks in disbelief.

"It isn't funny," she clamors with a snarky edge.  
"I don't think it's funny," he gets off the bed and approaches her cautiously, "but it _is_ ridiculous."

"What do you mean by that?" she presses shyly.

"There's no way you could be crazy. You're way too smart," he thinks it over. "You're definitely strange, but in no way crazy."

"You like that I'm weird?"

"Sure," Stiles shrugs. "That's part of what makes you, _you._" To make the moment just a bit less intimate, he jokes, "Besides, if you were crazy I'd be the first to take you to Eichen House."

Lydia rolls her eyes and comments, "No you wouldn't."

Stiles' lips curl as he stares at her intensely. "No," he agrees honestly. "I wouldn't."

The quiet, certain way he said it was making something stir deep within Lydia's stomach, a hunger. She had an ache for something that couldn't be filled.

"So why were you in the woods?" Stiles changed the subject slyly.

"I heard you scream my name," disclosed the banshee, worry rimming her eyebrows. "You were in trouble so I ran after you."

"Do you think it was a prediction…?" He asks slowly, rubbing his thumb over his wrist.

"God, I have no idea what it was." Lydia turns her back on him, ashamed that her powers were of no real hope for them. Something Cora once said repeated in her mind, "_All you really do is find the bodies."_

"I see," Stiles murmured so slightly that she almost didn't hear. "Are you going to tell Scott?"

Lydia's head shoots up. "It was _your_ voice." the air is still. "Even if I don't understand what happened tonight or why, I can't take any risks," her heart pumps rapidly as she dares to finish what she started. "Not with you."

Stiles' eyes dart to the floor like he can't look at her anymore. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea." He pretends not to see the way her heart is on her sleeve right now, forcing himself not to hear the meaning behind her words.

"Lydia, I just wanted to let you now I'm ba-…" Natalie Martin's voice ends abruptly as she opens the door to her only daughter's bedroom. Her eyes stop on Stiles and she forces a smile. "Stiles, I didn't know you were coming over tonight." She turns accusing eyes to Lydia for not telling her.

"It was an unexpected visit," Lydia informs her.

"Sorry about that," Stiles claps his hands together. "I just stopped by to prep our chemistry project a little."

"Chemistry project," Natalie repeats, intrigued. "Can I see what you have so far?"

Lydia exchanges a glance with Stiles. "It's a work in progress…"

"I just wanna _see_," Natalie presses with a broad smile. "Can't a doting mother be proud?" She teases wholeheartedly.

"Yeah, I'll let you know if I find one," Lydia jokes back, earning a mock-offended look from her mother. She laughs as she pulls out her science notebook, deciding to pull up some random assignment and label it a project.

"What class is this for?" Natalie leans in to watch as Lydia flips through the pages.

"Chemistry," Stiles answers for her, hanging behind the two females.

"Here," Lydia points to a random page.

Natalie can't understand what she's looking at in the slightest, but she wants to be there for her daughter, more than she has these past… years. "Wow, that's incredible." She turns bright eyes to Stiles. "You two did awesome."

"Thanks, we have amazing chemistry," Stiles nods proudly. He only realizes what he's done when he sees Lydia's jaw drop. " – At the class," he adds lamely, his excuse lacking any sense.

"I'll bet." Natalie raises her eyebrows at her daughter, giving her a stare that surely said "we'll talk about this later". She disappears down the hall.

"You idiot," is all Lydia can think to say.

"I should really be going," Stiles fumbles, flustered as he looks around her room. "Did I bring my stuff?'

Lydia gapes at his stupidity. "No…"

"Right, because we weren't hanging out," Stiles declares pointedly. "Woods."

"You're making no sense, just get out," Lydia grabs her pen, loosely pointing toward the door before glancing down at her notes like she's doing homework. It's mostly just to hide the smile on her face.

"Bye," he relents, his shoulders drooping at the pathetic ball of awkward that he was.

When the door finally shuts behind him, Lydia bursts into a fit of giggles, momentarily forgetting the horror show that was her night.

* * *

**A/N: Another chapter come and gone. I was a little disappointed with the writing in this one, but I hope that's just my author paranoia. I got writers block a few times during this, but I was determined to finish it quickly before my crazy week ahead. Also, new Teen Wolf tonight, guys! Get bouncy.**

**Thank you to everyone who bothered to leave reviews, whether on here or AO3 or on my tumblr, you're all so amazing for caring enough to do that. Bless your faces.**


	6. Out of This World

**A/N: First off, I want to say I'm sorry for taking so long with this chapter. I've been really busy taking the New York equivalency test since I never graduated high school and I've been working a lot of hours so my schedules been hectic. I'll try to make sure I'm quicker with the next few updates because I'm visiting my sister soon so they might get a bit more delayed at some point next month. Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews, they are my true inspiration.**

**Also, I'm sorry for the ending of this chapter. And the beginning. And all of it.**

_**Angstangstangstangst**_

* * *

**Out of This World**

"_When we die_

_We go into the arms of those who remember us_

_We are whole now_

_Out of our heads_

_Out of our minds_

_Out of this world_

_Out of this time." _

_- Bush_

Five

**_Just over a month ago…_**

"God I don't know what to wear," Lydia sighed tearfully, frustrated as she ruffles through her closet and sliding the hangers along the bar as she goes through her many options. She stands only in her bra and underwear, somehow still sweating profusely in her state of undress. "I laid out so many dresses this morning; I don't know why none of them are good enough…" She turns around, her uncertain gaze meeting Kira's as she chews on the tips of her fingers nervously.

Sympathy is written across Kira's face, her lip twitching at the need to say something comforting. "Your mascara is running," she notes instead, immediately hating herself.

Lydia makes a beeline to the mirror. When she sees her reflection she snatches several tissues from her desk and begins roughly rubbing profusely at the blackened bags under her eyes. "I used the wrong one," the redhead sniffs. She stares at herself with no recognition in her eyes. "I thought it was waterproof," she adds quietly.

"Lydia," Kira says softly, unfolding her legs from her position on the bed and approaching her grieving friend.

Lydia wraps her arms around herself protectively, eyes flickering away from the other girl. She knew she was trying to help, that she was lost and unsure of how to help. Lydia just wanted Scott to get here, because he understood. He was in pain just like her, was just as close with Allison. Poor Stiles was still moving in a fog, guilt plaguing him for his part in her death, which wasn't even his fault to begin with.

"It doesn't have to be anything special," Kira tells her.

When Lydia watches the Kitsune's eyes widen in regret, she doesn't get angry with her poor choice of words. She was only trying to say that her clothing wouldn't change the course of the day, her outfit wasn't important. Allison was. Today was the day they sent her off, and it had to be done wholeheartedly.

"I didn't mean –"

"It's okay Kira," Lydia interrupts, her voice low and raspy. "You're right." She takes this moment to observe Kira, finally taking in her attire. It was very funeral-appropriate, a black sleeved dress that accented her shiny dark hair nicely. She was _so_ pretty, why hadn't Lydia noticed that before?

Lydia sniffles, the contents of her closet blurring along with her vision. Everything looked the same.

Kira makes a decision, approaching Lydia's closet with determination in the way she moved her body, her arms tugging at the hangers of dresses. "You've got a closet full of stuff, there has to be something here worth wearing."

"It just…" Lydia's nails dig into her sides as she hugs herself tighter. "It has to feel right."

"What about this one?" Kira pulls out a smooth caramel dress, lightly painted with floral vines twisting across the bodice, but not overwhelmingly so. It was pretty and simple.

Lydia's face contorted into something pained and hurt, her lower lip trembling and nose growing a faint shade of pink as she hiccupped. A hand moved up to cover her mouth slightly. "Allison lent that to me," she gasps. "I was going to return it to her the week before she…" she stops short. "But I forgot." Her eyes meet Kira's. "Everything happened so suddenly, the nogitsune… Stiles getting sick."

"Hey, it's okay." Kira wants to comfort her in a better way, she wants to hug her in the way that friends do when the other is in pain. But they don't know each other like that. "We don't have to talk about all that right now." She knows she isn't helping.

As Lydia wails in an almost inhuman way, her body quaking with each sob, Kira doesn't care about how awkward it might be. She doesn't care that they only started talking because of Scott, that Lydia's standing there half-naked. Her arms envelop the banshee and she pulls her tightly to her, her hands awkwardly shuffling along Lydia's shoulders until she found a suitable position.

They stand like that for a while, but then Kira hears the familiar sound of a car pulling up in the driveway. She pulls the window's curtain aside. It's surprisingly foggy outside, a misty rain pattering onto the pavement but not yet a drizzle. The jeep's windshield wipers pause and the headlights turn off as Stiles turns the key in its ignition and it goes dead.

"The boys are here," she informs Lydia in almost a whisper. "I'll let them in," her eyebrows raise ever so slightly as she delicately states, "You should probably put something on."

As she pulls Allison's dress over her head, Lydia can hear the far away voices of Scott and Stiles as Kira lets them in, the door thudding somewhere in the distance. She thinks she can hear someone crying, but only a moment later realizes the sniffles are her own. There are footsteps creaking on the wooden panels in the hall now, and her door squeaks as it slowly opens.

She turns around, but not before letting out a deep, calming breath. The tears linger in her eyes and the mascara is still smeared at just the corners of her eyes, but it doesn't matter.

Stiles is standing there on his lonesome, she'd be blushing about how amazing he looked in formalwear if it weren't for the reasoning behind it. She can faintly hear Scott pouring a few cups of water in the kitchen, talking in hushed tones with Kira.

"Hey," she mumbles with the same cut up voice as before, a result of her hours spent crying over Allison, some of those hours spent mourning Aiden as well. She wasn't even going to get to say goodbye to him. Ethan had all but disappeared off the face of the planet and the twins were never exactly eager about being in the public eye anyway. If Ethan was holding a funeral for his brother, it was undoubtedly something private and personal.

"Hi," Stiles responds, his vocals dry and unused. He shifts his legs uncomfortably, the melancholy mood of today settling on him from the moment he opened his eyes this morning. After a long night of insomnia, he fell asleep at 4:30 just to wake up an hour later in a cold sweat. Eventually, he gave up on his tossing and turning and began his day. He was dressed and ready to go before his alarm even went off. The harsh tightness of the atmosphere is palpable… but still quiet like Allison's heart.

"You look handsome." She rubs her hand over the sleeve of Allison's dress. It was painful to see herself wearing it, but it made her feel close to her late friend.

He appears crestfallen, unshed tears sitting in his burning eyes. "You too," he replies automatically.

Lydia snorts, and somehow a beacon of light appears for her at the way his eyes brighten at the small smile that finds its way onto her lips. She almost thought it was lost. Thankfully, that tiny moment was enough to break the tension, and Stiles was stepping forward to wrap his arms around her in seconds. He could tell that it was what she needed, and it almost made her want to cry harder. A sharp pang sliced inside of her heart when she realized that a lot of people would be hugging each other today. Her thoughts are distracted by the whimpering next to her ear where Stiles' chin leaned down to rest on her shoulder.

She pulls back just enough to get a look at his face, and when she sees the tears rolling down his cheeks she wants to kiss him, to tell him that everything was going to be alright. But at the same time, she wanted to make him see that none of this was his fault.

Stiles is aware that his face is pink, he's aware of his wet eyes and the small sounds leaving his lips. Nearly embarrassed, he blinks his eyes to look toward the corner of the room, where he can't see her sympathy, her desperation to help him even though he knew she couldn't. This was something he had to face alone. When he feels her hands cup his face, her thumbs rubbing over his tears, his eyes return to her. Stiles swallows hard at the sight of his pain reflected in her emerald orbs.

Their exchange is silent but powerful, and they're both crying as they stare at each other.

Stiles' eyes flutter closed as Lydia continues to stroke his face softly.

They hear Kira and Scott's voices and back away from each other in unison, returning to their closed off statures as before.

When Scott appears in the doorway, his eyes immediately land on Lydia. His eyes fill with tears again at the sight of her, Allison's closest friend and confidant, someone he grew to love as much as she did. His fingers tighten around the glass of water in his hand, slipping over the condensation. It's so quiet that the anxious thud of her heart is vibrating even louder in his ears. He approaches her slowly, extending his hand toward her.

"I got you a glass of water," he rasps.

Lydia begins weeping again, launching herself forward to wind her arms around Scott's midsection. She presses her face to his chest, uncaring of how pathetic she may have appeared, assuming she was being judged as she always is.

The water sloshes and about half of the drink lands on the carpet, but Scott knows it doesn't matter and places the cup on the desk beside them so he can return the tearful hug.

Kira smiles sadly as she watches them, giving Stiles his own privacy as he attempts to discretely rub the moisture away from his eyes. If he doesn't want her to know, then she can respect that and play along.

When they finally pull apart, their hands still loosely connected, Scott takes in Lydia's appearance. "Isn't this…"

"Yeah," she whispers, gesturing to the dress. "I didn't know what to wear." Maybe it was a bad idea to take Kira's advice; maybe Scott didn't want her wearing it. Immediately, a shot of humiliation turns Lydia's stomach. "I can take it off."

"No!" Scott insists, his gaze on her darkening. "_Someone_ should wear it."

Lydia shudders at the implication.

It's quiet for a long time before Kira breaks and says something. "Are we ready to go?"

Lydia notices that her voice is loud in the emptiness of the room. It's so bare here.

"Chris mentioned that he thought it would be best if we were a little early. So we could get alone time with…" Scott swallows, "_her_."

Lydia's eyes cast downward. She'd been dreading this day. It was worse than the burial was going to be. Today was theWake_; _the day of viewing, where everyone got to pay their respects. She wasn't prepared to be right there next to Allison's body, her face caked on with spray on makeup, a sad attempt at making her appear more solid. But Allison wasn't in there anymore…

Stiles licks his dry lips, shaking his head and running a rough hand over his face and through his hair before commenting, "God..." The gravity of the situation begins to settle over his body. It's only a few short... minutes before they're going to see Allison's body. He asked Scott if they should skip it and he was genuinely hoping he'd say yes. But they had to do this. They had to say goodbye, and they had to be there for Allison's father. He just wasn't sure how.

Lydia wiggles her toes and meekly tells them, "I have to find shoes."

"Maybe we should go start the car, it's kind of cold out," Kira suggests, gesturing to the window. Then she takes note of her friends' stricken faces, "Or we can wait," she adds quietly.

"No, it's okay," Lydia rolls her eyes. "I can be alone for two minutes; I just need to find some shoes."

"_We'll wait_," Stiles presses before anyone can agree or object. He and Scott nod at each other in silent agreement. Today, they were all staying together for as long as they could.

It wasn't long before Lydia found herself standing only yards away from Allison's casket, situated in a private spot above a few blocky carpeted steps. Lydia was in the aisle and she could see it, the white creamy edges and the brown wooden rim along the sides and the opening. She couldn't see Allison, but her heart was pounding. She was _in_ there.

As her breath grew quicker, she grew more determined to get closer. Lydia lifted her foot to take another small step when someone came up beside her, freezing the motion.

"Are you okay?" It was Stiles. He sounded shaky and scared, and Lydia knew that he was in fact not okay, not in the slightest.

"I don't know if I can do this," Lydia confessed under her breath, feeling her arms and legs shiver frantically. The room was cold, but it wasn't the reason. How can she feel so freezing and be covered in sweat at the same time?

"It's still her." Stiles tries to sound convincing.

Lydia shakes her head quickly. "No, it isn't." her lips press together and she draws in a breath before speaking again. "She's already been embalmed." her eyes cloud over as the facts come to her, and yet again, being smart is nothing but a curse for Lydia. Knowledge wasn't power, it was pain. "She already had all of her blood removed and replaced with a solution meant to preserve her body."

"Stop," Stiles begs her quietly.

Lydia doesn't hear, and almost sounds robotic as she continues. "formaldehyde… methanol, ethanol…" she blinks. "There are others too." She breathes slow as she speaks. "The protein in her body was already converted from liquid and made into a gel state… it's to prevent bacteria." Her eyes trail over the entirety of the casket. "It's strange. Why should you have to worry about bacteria after you're already dead? Who cares how long it takes for you to decompose?" Lydia glances in Stiles' direction without actually looking at him, something dark and disturbing curling inside of her and leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "When I die, make sure they cremate me and throw me in a landfill. It means nothing." Lydia gasps as a tear runs down her face, her eyes burning as she stares at Allison's eternal bed. "This means nothing."

Lydia finally sees Stiles, and notices how upset he is. He's barely holding back sobs at this point; his face is runny and emotional. "Stiles?" She's jolted with shock. "What is it?"

"How can you say that?" He breathes harshly. "This isn't nothing. This is… this is us respecting her life… this is our goodbye."

"We didn't get a goodbye, Stiles!" Lydia snaps. "She was stabbed with something sharp, and then it was over. There was no goodbye."

"It's the closest we're going to get."

"Don't act like you want to be here. You asked Scott if we could skip it and just go to the burial, I was there."

Stiles closes his eyes tightly. "I have to do this. I have to say goodbye." When he opens his eyes, he sees Scott moving up the platform to Allison's coffin by himself. "We both do."

Lydia's bottom lip quivers before she bites down on it hard enough to break the surface of skin there. "Well _I_ can't!" her eyes dart around to avoid looking at Allison's casket. "So don't expect me to stick around and _watch_ this." Before she breaks down, she brushes past Stiles' shoulder and heads for the exit, a hand covering her mouth to keep the choked sob inside of her throat. Tears fly freely from her eyes as she makes a run for it, and she can feel the many pairs of eyes on her, but she doesn't care. She only dares to take one look back, and it's at Stiles. His shoulders are slumped now, but without any more hesitation, he forces himself up the steps and takes a place standing beside Scott, a reassuring hand moving to his back. Lydia turns her head away, and finally, she **leaves**.

x-x-x

**_Present day…_**

Lydia winced at the memory of Allison's wake. It wasn't all that long ago, but it felt like ages. She remembered showing up to the funeral the day after, thinking her friends would be angry with her for not visiting Allison during the wake. Much to her surprise, no one even mentioned it. They understood how hard it was, and Scott found himself regretting his decision to approach the casket. It was only a confirmation of how empty Allison's body was now.

Kira, Scott, Lydia and Stiles all held hands during the burial. The four of them standing side by side with their fingers intertwined in a small line, drawing strength off of one another to find the courage to get through the entirety of that day, and more specifically, the moment the casket was lowered into the ground. It had all been leading up to there.

The reassurances they all whispered amongst each other that day had been so promising. Lydia had almost been convinced that they would be okay, that these people were her pack and they were never going to drift apart. It was within days that they'd all emotionally cut themselves of the ties that bound them to Allison and everything regarding her death. It was too difficult to talk about it, so no one did. Eventually, they stopped talking about most things.

Lydia sat up straighter on Scott's bed when he returned from the kitchen with a glass of water for her, even though she was sure she hadn't asked for it. Another reminder of that day.

"I'm not thirsty," she says when he offers it to her.

"Your face is flushed, you should drink something."

"I'm okay." She holds her hands between her thighs, scratching a manicured nail over the back of her hand nervously.

"I just don't understand any of what you told me," Scott brought forth. "Was it a banshee prediction? Were you sensing that Stiles is in trouble?"

"I don't know!" Lydia shoots back with agitation. "I just thought you should know exactly what happened out in the woods. It just…" her shoulders slump, "It feels like someone's messing with me."

"…Maybe you're doing it to yourself…" He knows he has to be careful because Lydia is unpredictable with her attitude. He doesn't want her to think he's calling her crazy, but she's been through a great deal as of late and maybe grief affects banshees differently than other people. There was still so much they didn't know.

Lydia focuses her eyes on him. "How?"

"I really don't know… I'm just speculating," Scott sighs. "We're not going to figure it out just by sitting here. We need real answers. Maybe Deaton can do something."

"Yeah," she snorts in response, unbelieving that this was a solvable problem.

Scott twiddles his thumbs as an uneasy silence fills the room.

Tonight, the McCall pack was planning on going to the fair, a reward for Beacon Hills students after being declared champions of the lacrosse match. Every year, the winning school received a discount on tickets to the local Land of Amusement, a carnival park, and the players got them for free. It was going to be overcrowded and they knew the killer long lines were inevitable, but they weren't about to miss a night of bonding and fun.

Scott frowned as he considered the state of the pack in its current condition. Everyone was very disconnected when it came to their emotions; things were still tense and broken after Allison's demise. He watched Lydia take a sip of the water, condensation rolling off the sides and dripping onto the comforter of his bed. She looked worn, like she hadn't slept in days. Scott was unprepared for the amount of guilt that weighed him down with a sudden ferocity, causing him to lower his head in shame for not seeing it before. He knew she was struggling, but she seemed to be handling things better on her own. It wasn't like Lydia had asked for help. Now she was experiencing something with her abilities that she never had before, and it was frightening for all of them. If Stiles was in danger…

"I just want to know why I heard him say things to me on the phone before he ever did," Lydia huffed, soft red hair swaying as she shook her head. "I thought we already established that I'm not psychic!"

"There's still so much we don't know about your powers, Lydia." Scott grimaced at the uncomfortable truth in that statement. There was just _so _much to be discovered. "If you've…" he can't think of the right word, "_unlocked_ some new banshee power then maybe you can predict deaths in different ways now!"

Lydia nearly spills the cup in her haste to place it down, giving Scott an unforgiving stare. "This isn't a video game, Scott! This is my life."

"I know!" Scott connects two hands with the air between them in a defensive position, " – and maybe it's not supernatural at all." He waits until she makes eye contact with him again. "Maybe it's psychological."

Lydia nods in agreement as she adds, "- Like maybe I _am _losing my mind."

"That's not at all what I said." Scott is quick to rectify his words so that she understands, "You've been through a lot, and maybe this is your brains way of telling you to take it easy."

The banshee slaps her hand on the blanket, rolling her eyes in an animated fashion. Even as she pulls away, an impression is left folded into the material until it finally bounces back to its original shape. "Great, so now my own brain's against me, too."

Scott is left feeling the conversation had gone unfinished when they're interrupted by the vibration of his cellphone. He forces a reassuring smile and flashes it at his friend, but Lydia appears no less frazzled than he feels. "Hey Kira."

"Are you ready to go on every ride with me?" She sounded from the other end.

Scott laughs, scratching his nails over his chin. "Only if I get to be romantic and win you a stuffed animal at one of those overpriced games."

Lydia fights the overwhelming urge to gouge out her eyeballs, although she can't help but crack a smile at Kira's next comment,

"I can win my own stuffed animals, thank you very much!"

x-x-x

They meet up with everyone else in the parking lot of the fairground. The air smells like a mixture of candy and fried food, and in the distance they can see the flickering lights decorating the area and hear the screams of the passengers on the swing carousel. Smoke rises from a corndog stand and lifts into the air, disappearing into nothingness as a gust of wind carried it away. The faraway voice flitting through a loudspeaker in an advertisement alerted them of the presence of carnival games.

As a group, they collectively head through the parking lot swarmed with vehicles searching for parking, as they earlier had for nearly 10 minutes. The three girls walk at a steady pace side-by-side with Stiles and Scott trailing behind for a moment to converse alone.

"Did Lydia talk to you…?" Stiles approached the topic carefully, shrugging his shoulders with his hands shoved into the pockets of his blue sweat jacket. She told him she was going to tell Scott about their experience with the woods, the phone call she got from someone that wasn't him. He wasn't sure if she'd actually go through with it, but if he was being honest with himself, he really wanted Scott's opinion on the matter.

"Uh..." The alpha rubs his nose as he eyes the girls to make sure they are unable to hear what they're discussing. They seem to be immersed in their own conversation. "Yeah she did."

"So what do you think?" Stiles can almost feel the mood tighten as Scott's face drops. He needs to lighten the mood a bit. "Is our girl finally going bonkers?"

Scott's head turns abruptly to his left to give Stiles a hard stare. "She's not crazy."

"I was joking," Stiles grumbles lowly, though he understands his friend's inability to find humor in the seriousness of this situation. Either Lydia's powers were expanding and he was really in trouble, or something else was at work here. Something Lydia was creating in her own complex wonderland of a mind.

"I don't know what's happening with her," Scott says honestly. "But it's scaring me a little."

Stiles considers this. "I don't know if we should be _that_ worried yet… I mean…" his eyes widen. "Unless you think we should be worried?" Kira laughs at something Malia said in the background.

"She _does_ have a history of wondering off for long periods of time, maybe that's just what this was and she was hallucinating during the entire thing, thinking you called her, thinking she felt someone knock on her door and brush past her. This could all be part of the whole banshee thing, really." The alpha finds himself calming down as he rationalizes Lydia's behavior when she ran into the woods.

"So then my life probably isn't in danger?" Stiles asks, mostly rhetorically.

Precarious of how to answer this, he decides to settle his friend's mind instead. He has no way to be certain, but until they have more evidence to go on, it doesn't matter. "Nope," he tilts his head before adding for good measure, "Not right now, anyway."

"Oh, well that's reassuring," Stiles responds facetiously, the usual twinge of humor reattached.

The girls slow down to allow Scott and Stiles to catch up as they finish whatever they were talking about. Malia wraps an arm around the entirety of Stiles' left arm, clutching to him as they make their way through the entrance of the fairground and to the ticket booth.

"Ready for me to win you that stuffed animal?" Kira asks Scott with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

Lydia's cheeks melt into a hue of geranium pink as she stands squished in the middle of the group of five, sticking out as a dead flower would among a row of healthy roses. She bumps against Malia's shoulder continuously, the werecoyote unnoticing of the banshee who was becoming more claustrophobic as the seconds wore on.

Within 15 minutes, they have their "unlimited rides" wristbands and Kira and Scott have disappeared into their own booth on the Ferris wheel, seeking a private place to kiss and enjoy the view at the top.

When Stiles climbs into the next available booth with Malia's hand in his own, Lydia stands uncomfortably near the entrance to the ride with her lips pursed. She was angry with Scott for leaving her behind with them when he knew it would be awkward, how could he not?

Stiles freezes as Malia takes a seat, turning back to look at Lydia, "You can come you know…" he prods upon seeing her still form. He didn't understand why she was hesitating. He and Malia would obviously be unable to find pleasure in each other's lips if Lydia was accompanying them, but he didn't think that she wouldn't. It wasn't like it was a big deal, they were after all there as a group.

"Ah, no," Lydia tries her best to sound convincing, like she isn't upset. "I'm gonna go get some funnel cake or something. I'll meet up with you guys after you're done with the ride."

Stiles can feel the eyes of the attraction's attendant staring daggers at his face, the crowd in line growing impatient with the wait, but he doesn't care. "What?" He snorts. "That's stupid, we'll just skip the ride." Stiles motions to exit. The attendant, a middle-aged Indian man who looks like he's seen days better than this one, immediately unhooks the chain to allow him out.

"No, it's really not a big deal." Lydia pushes past the annoyed people pressing against her to leave the line. "I didn't eat anything all day so I'm a little hungry. I'll meet up with you guys after," she reiterates, gesturing her hands toward the attraction for him to return to it.

Stiles' expression sinks, but he relents and climbs back inside the colorful orange booth for a final time, settling along the plastic seat and placing a hand on the metal bar behind Malia's head.

The drive rim of the Ferris wheel begins to rotate and creek as the attendant starts it up again until the next booth is at the entrance, allowing a family inside that one.

Malia fingers the strings of Stiles' sweat jacket, turning it in her index finger with a flirty smile adorning her sharp lips. "Kiss me already," she whines.

He watches her suck her bottom lip into her mouth, drawn in for a hazy moment of passion before he's pulled out by his own thoughts, his eyes averting to look over the rail and below them. The ground was moving further away as the Ferris wheel continued to spin. Lydia's small form was growing tinier by the second, but he could see her finally turn and walk away.

"What's the matter with you?" Malia asks directly. "You smell weird."

"It's been a weird couple of days," Stiles mutters as he watches Lydia aimlessly walk around the park like a lost little girl, clutching the strap of her purse with both hands. She reaches up to brush a clump of red hair behind her ear, out of place among a massive crowd of rowdy teens.

Lydia rolls her bag up her arm until the strap is hanging from her shoulder, her hands moving to wrap around herself. So many of her classmates were around, people that used to look up to her ignoring her. She wanted to drown in her misery; she wanted to sink into the concrete below her Jimmy Choo's and fade away.

"Is that Lydia Martin?" A face popped up in front of the banshee's, startling her. It was one of the stupid jocks she used to hang out with, courtesy of her long friendship with Regan Fisher and the many boys she forced Lydia to talk to. They were all shallow and completely idiotic; Lydia hated dumbing herself down just to fit in. "It _is _you!" His face broke out in a cheeky grin.

"Hi Logan," she forces out.

He looks back to his friends, waiting for them to join him before continuing, shaking his head with a mocking confused pout on his face. "What are you doing here?"

Lydia glances toward the Ferris wheel, tightening her hold on her bag as she is overcome with anxiety. "I'm just here with some friends." Her eyes flicker away, and she bites down on her tongue in punishment for feeling intimidated by these Neanderthals. This wasn't like her. She hadn't behaved this way since Jackson.

"Friends?" Logan cackles, rubbing the stubble on his chin.

"Do you mean the voices in your head?" One of his friends chimes in.

Logan is hysterical in response, clutching his stomach and smacking the other boy playfully in his chest.

Lydia inverts her lips and bites down harder. She can taste the blood in her mouth, the cut on her tongue. "_No_," she grunts.

"Why are you wearing so much make up, schizo-girl?" Logan taunts, his face poking out of his neck as he leans in to be standing at the same height as her. "You're still ugly, even when you're all caked up." He smirks as he digs the knife deeper. "Schizo-girl."

A female standing beside Logan can't help but add to the bullying, finally included on the antics that are generally directed at her. Critiques that were usually about her looks and personality were easy to come by, so it was nice to point that aggression at a different girl for once. Maybe they would treat her better if she did it. "I like that name, it's better than _Lydia_." her face twists in disgust. "Where are these supposed friends of yours, schizo-girl?" she gets in her face, reaching two hands up to shove at her lightly. "They're not _here_."

Stiles narrows his eyes as he watches the scene play out on the ground below. He can't tell what they're talking about, but Lydia looks afraid, and that ugly girl with the brown hair definitely just pushed her. He pushes himself further on the seat, on his knees as he peers over the side, his arms supporting along the bars.

"What the hell are you doing?" Malia shoots, taking hold of his leg. "Are you trying to jump off? I'm pretty sure you would definitely die, Stiles."'

"No," Stiles growls back, her voice interrupting his train of thought. He slaps his hand on the metal. "Logan and his gang of rodents are hassling Lydia."

It's Malia's turn to climb onto her knees, taking a position similar to Stiles as she looks over the edge and down below. "Wow, you're right." She nods in agreement, appearing entirely unfazed.

"Don't put your hands on me," Lydia slaps the other girls hand away, her eyebrows dangerously rising.

"Did you just touch my girlfriend?" Logan took a step toward Lydia, pointing an accusatory finger at her chest, "You schizophrenic bitch."

"Wow," Malia declares from the booth of the Ferris wheel. "He just called her a bitch."

Stiles does a double take in her direction, "You can hear them?"

"Super-hearing, Stiles," she reminds with a roll of her eyes. "Just like I heard you and Scott talking about Lydia's creepy powers before." she shrugs nonchalantly before wrinkling her forehead in confusion. "Stiles, what's a 'schizophrenic'?"

He pointedly ignores her question, his heart beginning to rattle as the bullies laugh at another insult clearly directed at his friend. "What are they saying?" He asks Malia hurriedly.

"The girl with the dirty hair just said that if they weren't in public she'd break her neck," The werecoyote chews on her lip. "Isn't that against the human rules?" Malia's ears bounce in surprise at the notion. "She's going to get in trouble."

"_Focus_, Malia!" Stiles snaps, his fingers red where they tightened on the metal bar. "What else are they saying?"

Lydia swallows hard as she lifts her chin at them. _I am superior to these imbeciles_, she thought. If she kept repeating it in her head, maybe she'd start to believe it. _I am not a coward._

"Look at this bitch with her sarcastic little self," the brunette continues to berate her. "I should slap you silly, you know."

"Hey!" An unexpected voice calls from nearby, grabbing the attention of the entire group. Calvin jogs toward them, stepping between the girls and pressing a hand against Lydia's arm until she gets the message and backs up a few paces. "What do you think you're doing?" He asks the bullies.

"_New kid_," Logan muses. "Of course the weird guy would shack up with the weird girl of Beacon Hills."

"Get out of here," Calvin glowers. "You don't wanna start something here, we'll both get arrested."

Logan sharpens his eyes before nodding shortly. "Come on, guys." He takes hold of his girlfriend's arm as they walk away. Before they do, he shouts to the redhead over his shoulder, "You belong in Eichen house!"

Lydia closes her eyes tightly, willing any and all tears away. She wasn't going to do this now. "Calvin," she sighs his name. "What are you doing here?"

Stiles lets out a breath of air he hadn't been aware he was holding, relief running through him as the wind brushed over his sweaty skin at the sight of Calvin stepping in. He never thought he'd be so relieved to see the guy. Anger still prickles along his clenched fists, a grunt leaving his mouth as he considered Lydia's bullies. Logan was always a prick, this was nothing new. He had a reputation for being the most high and mighty bastard among his group of headstrong friends.

"Now can we focus on other things?" Malia turns away from Lydia and her drama, flashing a quick smile at her almost-boyfriend.

Stiles pauses for a split second before blinking and returning his attention to his…. _her_. "Yeah," he mumbles, a knuckle grazing the spot under her chin as he lifts her face to meet his lips.

"I wanted to see you," Calvin divulges to Lydia honestly, a sly uplift of his cheeks leaving them ample as he smiles. "Maybe we can go on the haunted house ride together, I promise I'll hold your hand," he teases lightheartedly.

Lydia's eyes dart around nervously. They're in a public place, he can't try anything. Just like Logan or his sleazy girlfriend couldn't do anything. "I don't really want to be around you right now."

"What are you talking about?" Calvin's nails dig into his palms with frustration. He knew she was going to pull some bipolar girl shit, Lydia did this all the time. She was constantly changing her mind about them. "I'm your boyfriend," he arrogates, his arms flopping to his sides as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You almost crashed your car just to scare me!" She hisses, her head outstretched from her neck, her face in his to overpower him, to take control of the situation. "You left scratches on my thigh you know," Lydia declares pointedly, crossing her arms and refusing to give in. She has to raise her chin in order to feel closer to his height, but it succeeds in giving her a stronger feeling of capability.

"I'm sorry, Lydia," somehow, he still sounds annoyed. "But you need to get over it. It's not like I actually crashed it or anything, and your leg is _fine,_" he rolls his eyes at her overdramatic behavior. She was trying to make a scene out of nothing.

"Digging your nails into my leg is not _fine_ not ever." Lydia bites on her tongue animatedly rolling her eyes as she adds on, "Alright, if it's in the heat of the moment and we're furiously making out it's okay, but you did it to get me to stop talking. There was nothing intimate about it."

"Okay, show me." Calvin shrugs his shoulders.

"Show you…" Lydia trails off, unsure of where this is going.

"Your leg. If it's so cut up, then show me, because I don't believe you." He reaches a hand forward to lift her skirt, but she jumps back so suddenly that she nearly gives herself whiplash.

Lydia's eyes scan the area to make sure no one saw his movement, "Are you crazy?" She growls.

"I knew you were lying," Calvin runs a tongue over his lips. "Lydia, I didn't want to have to bring this into it, but if you don't stop being a self-absorbed little child I'm going to have to do something extreme."

"What the hell are you talking about?" She stomps a heeled foot against the pavement, green eyes sharp and cold as she regards him. In no way, is she about to take his violent outbursts against her; especially when they were in a crowded amusement park and not a hidden place where no one would help. She'd be assisted in seconds, and he was delusional if he thought he would get away with it. If he thought her friends wouldn't be off of that Ferris wheel and protectively by her side. They may be distant and a little bit oblivious, but they would take care of her if they knew.

Calvin blinks at her for a few silent moments before his eyes slowly trail in a line toward the Ferris wheel. "I really hope that something doesn't cause that Ferris wheel to collapse on itself." his gaze quietly returns to Lydia, tilting his head at her innocently. "Aren't your friends on that ride?"

Lydia shakes a finger at him before gruffly asking, no, _demanding_ of him, "Are you - _threatening_ my friends?"

He leans in very close, his breath whispering against her lips. "No, Lydia." his eyes admire her candy apple colored lips. "I'm just telling you that if something happens to that – " his index finger aims at the ride. " - Ferris wheel, and everyone on it ends up horribly mutilated or even dead, it might just be _your_ fault."

Her breath shakes as she speaks, she can't stop it. "You don't know how to do that."

"Disassemble a Ferris wheel?" he questions huskily. "You mean I don't know how to start by unbolting the hydraulic cylinder welded between the chassis and the wheel support? That I'm not supposed to remove the center axle and re-adjust the sliding of the poles, that could hypothetically, tumble down if too much weight is added?" he watches a couple climb into a booth on the Ferris wheel. "That too many people couldn't cause the horizontal poles to collapse on themselves without the proper support?"

Lydia's breathing becomes uneven and fast.

Calvin watches her squirm in satisfaction. "Technically, one could even make it look like an accident. After the _accident_," he emphasizes, "it would be investigated. But it would just look like someone didn't unload it from its trailer properly, that maybe the excessive rain the past few days rusted the already-improperly installed wires and caused a catastrophic event." a finger goes up to twist in a loose red curl. "It would be in the news for months. Beacon Hills would hold some depressing vigil and a year from this day there will be another." his eyes cloud over as this fantasy takes him to another dimension. "Every year on this day… it will be the anniversary of _that_ day. It will be mourned for years until finally, everyone who was there to witness it dies, and the next generation forgets."

The banshee doesn't try to stop her flow of tears or to even pull away from Calvin's hands touching her hair.

Calvin pulls away from the dream suddenly. "Or maybe I give your town too much credit. They'll probably get over it faster than that, knowing how frequent the deaths are in this shitty little place." He acts like he's only just noticed the trauma written across her face, his eyebrows drawing together with concern "Lydia, you look upset."

Her bottom lip quivers, but she is still able get her thoughts out. "You didn't really do any of that…." the horror spreads through her quickly, unease twisting in her gut and spreading until it moves up her throat in a choked cry. "_did you_?"

The frightening teenager presses his cold lips to the side of Lydia's jaw, sending a shiver through her at the blistering sensation. "I told you not to fuck with me." a hand tightens in her hair painfully. "I'm your _boyfriend_."

"Just don't hurt them," Lydia cries, her palm cupping her mouth to stop the onslaught of sobs that want so badly to escape the tight rawness of her throat.

"As long as you don't give me a reason to, I won't." Calvin's grip loosens, soothing now as it rubs over the deep red locks under the dim light of the moon. "I promise," he whispers sincerely, stepping forward to pull her in his romantic embrace as the wind wraps in her hair.

She shakes in his hold, a tremor running through her, afraid and anxious. She has to respond or he'll be angry, so she returns the hug, ignoring the warning spasm in her arms as they end up around his neck. _He can't hurt them_.

x-x-x

Stiles holds Malia tightly as they exit the ride, the air having grown much colder in the 15 minutes they were on it. Each time the attendant stopped them on the bottom to let them out, they decided to go for another round, much to his annoyance. Her laugh vibrated and rumbled against his chest at the joke he made upon climbing out of the booth,

"Don't be so sour," Stiles had directed at the attendant. "if you find yourself a cute girl I'll control the lift for a while," he winks at the man, leaving a trail of sarcasm in his wake as he took Malia's hand and led her through the exit.

"I could smell the anger on him, Stiles," the werecoyote chuckles, "He did _not_ like you!"

They wait for Kira and Scott to leave the attraction, the pair erupting into their own fit of laughter as they lean against each other like they need the support.

"What's so funny Bambi and Thumper?" Stiles raises amused brows.

Kira can barely get out the explanation she's laughing so hard, "Scott tried to blow a bubble for the attendant and accidentally spit his gum at him."

Stiles smirks, "Poor guy's getting all the abuse tonight."

"Where's Lydia?" Malia asks abruptly.

Stiles is taken off guard by the question, as his not-girlfriend usually didn't care much for the banshee. "She and Calvin are probably doing their own thing," he shrugs.

"Calvin's here?"

Stiles nods at Scott. "Yeah," he mutters, deciding not to tell him about Lydia's interaction with Logan and his sheep.

"Oh, good," Kira sighs. "That means we can all do our own couple thing." she immediately feels guilty for assuming that was the case. Maybe Scott and Stiles wanted to hangout together. "Right?" she turns to Scott.

"Oh," Scott admires his best friend's expression to make sure it's okay. "Yeah, that sounds cool." So much for pack bonding. That would apparently have to wait for the camping trip over the weekend. "Do you wanna get some cotton candy?"

"You know exactly how to win my heart," Kira smiles broadly, rocking on the tips of her feet excitedly. She loved alone time with Scott, especially when they were actually out doing something fun and not just kissing in his room with some random action movie playing in the background.

"So I guess we'll meet up later?" Stiles suggests, his eyes flickering. "Or I'll just see you at school tomorrow," he adds lamely. He wanted them to stick together, to play a game or something, but that was clearly not what Scott wanted. It was just easier these days for his friend to focus his attention on the Kitsune, a safe place without the pain of a past that he shared with Stiles and Lydia.

"Okay," Scott nods, wrapping his arms around Kira with a joking growl. She giggles in response, and that only makes him more adamant to make her laugh. "We'll see you guys around," he barely makes eye contact with them before pulling Kira away.

"_Yeah_," Stiles rumbles as he watches them fade into the distance. "Whenever _that_ is."

"You smell angry," Malia tells him.

"No way," Stiles responds with sarcasm heavy in his words. "You can see my teeth grinding, the frustrated rim of my eyebrows and the huff of air leaving my lips and smell that I'm angry? That's some nifty power there, Malia. You should work at a circus." When he finally looks at her, he regrets everything instantly. First, she appears hurt, but within seconds that look is replaced by a furious snarl.

"_Don't_," she pokes his chest, "_be_," again, "_a_," and again, "_jackass_," she jabs him one final time, with extra force to emphasize her point.

The guilty teenager rubs the sore spot on his body in misfortune. "…Sorry," he says meekly, though he knows he deserved it for taking his exasperation out on her.

"Whatever," Malia dismisses it. They were here to have a good time. "Hey there's Lydia," she smacks Stiles' chest to gain his attention, oblivious to the fact that she once again hit the same sore spot, making him wince. "HEY LYDIA!" She screams at the top of her lungs, receiving some very annoyed glances. Stiles forces a smile at the offended onlookers, waving awkwardly in a way that said "please don't beat me up".

Lydia's heart jumped in surprise at the sound of her name being shouted, whipping around in surprise. She rolls her eyes at the sight of the werecoyote, but heads in her direction with Calvin trailing behind, stuck to her like a shadow. "Hey guys," she puts up the front of a happy teenager, ignoring the stinging in her heart when Calvin takes her hand in his.

Stiles doesn't miss the movement, his eyes lowering to where they connected before returning to their faces. "_Sup…_?" he nods at Calvin, unable to hide his annoyance.

Lydia's eyes glitter toward Calvin nervous to what his reaction may be at Stiles' tone of voice.

Stiles' jealousy goes undisguised to Calvin, but he isn't angry. Instead, he finds it funny. "How are you on this fine night, Stiles?"

As usual, Calvin is weird. Stiles is not impressed, because two can play at that game. The game of narcissistic teenage boys. "Peachy keen, Mr. Easley, peachy keen." he runs his fingers elegantly over his chin for effect.

Malia's eyes switch between the pair like she's watching a ping pong match before they stop on her not-boyfriend. "Stiles," she starts, "what the hell are you doing?" the werecoyote finishes, bemused.

Stiles huffs, leave it to Malia to ruin a perfectly good standoff. Douchebag style. "Nothing, Malia," he clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he feels the mood shift. The moment is over.

"I feel like everyone's always part of this big joke and I just don't get it!" Malia slaps her hands against her legs in frustration before waving her hand off. "Whatever, I'm over it. Do you guys wanna play bumper cars?"

Lydia stares at Malia blankly, before turning her questioning eyes to Stiles. _Seriously? _He was _seriously_ dating _this_ girl?

"Bumper cars sounds like fun," Calvin grins.

They end up getting food first. Malia can't decide what she wants, so Lydia orders funnel cake first and she settles at a table with Calvin so they can share.

Stiles stands beside Malia at the front of the line, humiliation and frustration perfectly combined as Malia holds up everyone behind them as she interrogates the server behind the counter. Stiles leans his elbows against the counter, desperately trying to cover his ears enough to block out the sound of her infinite questions.

"The chicken wings," Malia points at the menu above the counter.

The server blinks at Malia. "Do you _want_ them?" She prods.

"No," Malia's face twists in annoyance. She was sure that the server just interrupted her, and Stiles had definitely told her that was against a human rule. "You're not supposed to interrupt people, Stiles tell her." She shoves at his shoulder.

He groans in response, landing his forehead against his the counter and smacking it repeatedly.

"Miss, if you're not gonna order…"

"Oh my gosh she did it again!" Malia growls. "I had a question about the chicken wings, will you let me finish!?" The server leans a hand against the counter and lifts an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. The rest of the line repeats the same gargled noise that Stiles made. "Are they cooked, or is it like you guys have the animals in the back and cut them open and just hand it over?"

"_It_?" The server asks expectantly.

"The meat…" Malia states. "Obviously."

Stiles can't take another second of this, so he stalks over to the table Lydia and her boy toy are at and falls into the seat across from them. "I can't listen to her right now, she doesn't even know how a freakin' menu works and I'm already agitated as it is. I don't want to snap at her again, so can one of you _please_ help her?" He pleads desperately.

"Take it easy, Stiles," Calvin chuckles. "I'm guessing Malia doesn't eat out often, is that the problem?"

Stiles and Lydia exchange glances. He'd almost forgotten that Calvin was in the dark about the supernatural.

At their silence, Calvin supposes he's right. "Don't worry, I'll help her out. If there's anything I know, it's food." He scoots off the seat and heads toward the line.

Lydia grows anxious as she watches him approach Malia. He wouldn't hurt her right? She shakes her head. Of course not. Not in front of everyone. Her heart skips a beat as she recalls his threat on the Ferris wheel. He had to have other ways of getting at her friends set in place, too. Had she made him angry in some way in the last few minutes?

"Maybe I should stop him," Lydia whispers, mostly to herself. She's shocked when Stiles answers her, not realizing she'd said it out loud.

"It's not that big of a deal, if anything she'll just creep him out," Stiles snorts. "I'd really like to see the creepiest guy on the planet get creeped out. I bet it would be a treat."  
"Don't talk badly about him!" It's only because she doesn't want him to get angry and hurt Stiles, but he doesn't know that. He can't, anyway.

Stiles frowns. "Sorry, I know he means a lot to you." At Lydia's flinch, he continues, but not before leaning in and lowering his voice so that she is sure to be the only one that can hear him. "I saw what happened before."

Lydia's large eyes widen beyond what would seem possible, palpitations shaking her heart and chest. He saw Calvin pushing her around, threatening her friends. That meant he also saw her be weak enough not to try to stop him, to let him be mean to her and try and hurt her friends without doing anything about her. He was going to be angry. _No_. Stiles wouldn't do that, he would care. Right?

As her thoughts race, she almost forgets to listen when he opens his mouth again. "Does that happen a lot?" he whispers, traces of guilt evident.

"No!" Lydia shakes her head quickly. "He doesn't – he wouldn't." She isn't sure how to get herself out of this one.

"I don't mean just Logan," Stiles admits. "I mean in general. Do a lot of people at school say things to you about…" he doesn't want to say the words. He doesn't want to ask if a lot of people call her crazy or schizo-girl, if she's bullied for something she can't control.

"Logan?" Lydia tries to clear her head so that she can comprehend what he's saying. Why was he talking about Logan? Weren't they talking about… ? Recognition struck her hard, like a smack in the face. He saw Logan and his friends harassing her, not Calvin. "_Oh_." Lydia's lips curl as she realizes she hasn't answered yet. "Oh!" she feels faint and overwhelmed. "Not really," her eyes divert, avoiding. "Sometimes."

"Tell me the truth," he pushes. "Please."

"I don't know," Lydia considers what the truth really is at this point. It's whatever he believes. "I'm good at ignoring it, so I can't really tell if it's happening."

"Lydia, come on," he drawls. "Like you can't tell if someone is harassing you in the hallway, pushing you or calling you names."

"What does it matter?" Lydia backfires. "I _am_ the schizo-girl."

"Don't call yourself that," Stiles barks quickly, a hand shooting across the table to lightly touch Lydia's wrist, like he's waiting for permission. At her lack of reaction, he encloses a hand over hers. "_You_ know you're not crazy, _I _know you're not crazy. It's been rough, Lyds. For all of us." he bows his head. "But that doesn't make you crazy."

"Thanks, Calvin!" Malia's voice draws their attention as she nears the table. "French fries were a good choice."

"See, I knew they would be," he comments. "You're a simple girl, and French fries are simple food."

She smiles warmly. "Thank you!"

Stiles eyes Calvin warily at the backhanded compliment, but he knows he can't say anything. He would only look like he was trying to start an argument out of nothing, and he didn't need to have Lydia mad at him _again_. There'd been enough of that.

Calvin wouldn't have noticed that Lydia and Stiles' hands were touching if he hadn't caught the slight movement of the other boy pulling away so abruptly. It's difficult to notice a mistake unless someone tries to correct it, and Stiles had made that error. He watches the spiky haired lacrosse player for the rest of the meal, taking discrete glances and studying the way he interacts with both girls. He had an interesting character about him, that much he could see from the surface. He wanted to know him better. He wanted to get under his skin.

x-x-x

Naturally, Lydia decides to choose the pink bumper car, feeling a bit more able to enjoy herself now that the circumstances had changed a bit. She was still fearful of what Calvin could do to her, and even more importantly, her friends. She didn't know what he was up to, or what his goal was in bothering her so much. It wasn't like there was anything about her that Calvin could possibly be so drawn in. He didn't know she was a banshee, in fact, he barely knew her at all.

"Malia, we're gonna kick their sorry asses, right!?" Stiles calls to Malia from across the way, ignoring the stare a middle-aged woman gave him for saying the alternative word for butt in front of her son.

"I'm gonna go coyote on them!" She reassures vigorously, clipping in her seatbelt. At his dropping smile, she clarifies, "In a very human sense!"

"Oh, good!" Stiles shoots her a positive thumbs up.

Calvin hops into the bumper car parked at the curb right next to Lydia's. She pretends not to see him until he leans toward her car to mutter to her, "I saw you holding Stiles' hand." Her stomach lurches as he returns to his seat, eerily calm with nothing more to say. There was perhaps, nothing more frightening than that.

When the attendant flips the switch and everyone starts slamming into each other, she doesn't register it until a child smacks their car against the back of hers. The shove forces her into motion, and she spins her wheel around to follow the direction of Calvin's bumper car, headed for Stiles.

Lydia couldn't help but panic, even though she logically knew that these bumper cars were designed to smack against other ones, so there was no way Calvin could _really_ hurt Stiles no matter how hard he pressed on the pedal. Sure, he could annoy him pretty badly, but that was as far as it went. Still, Lydia felt there was something more sinister at hand.

"What are you doing?" She calls to Calvin when she is finally able to catch up beside him as his path is blocked by another person's car.

"You're gonna see what happens when you try and cheat on me, Lydia."

"You're being ridiculous!" She seethes. "I most certainly did not cheat, he was trying to make me feel better about stupid Logan!" He's already driving past her. "Damn it!" she smacks her hands on the wheel and presses down on the pedal.

Malia lets loose a battle cry as she smacks into the side of Lydia's car, bursting into a fit of giggles as Lydia spins out a little bit. When she sees the dirty look Lydia gives her, she frowns. "It's just a game, Lydia!" She shouts to her retreating back.

Lydia watches as Stiles aims his sights on Calvin once he realizes how close he's getting. They're both headed straight for each other in a collision, Stiles dramatically pretending to honk his horn and telling Calvin to "bring it on!" Calvin on the other hand, is completely silent and determined.

She's so worried that Calvin has something up his sleeve, that he's about to do something to Stiles.

Everything moves in slow motion when their bumper cars connect, sending both boys reeling against their straps, only to be pushed back into their seats as the cars spin to the sides. Only seconds after that, the attendant turns off the attraction to allow the next set of waiting passengers on. Everyone heads toward the exit.

Stiles is laughing hysterically, kicking his foot out against the side of the bumper car. "That was _awesome_!" He points at Calvin. "You – you're," he's about to call him awesome, but stops short and settles for, "_pretty _awesome!"

Lydia's heart is still pounding as her large eyes look between the unharmed boys. Nothing had happened. _Nothing_. Calvin didn't pull a knife and stab him, he didn't shoot him, he didn't make the god damn bumper car magically disassemble and collapse. Nothing.

"If only we could get away with doing that in real cars," Calvin jokes, sending a wink Lydia's way at the indirect reminder of their recent mishap.

"Are you okay?" Malia asks Lydia as she approaches her. "You're still sitting in your bumper car and you smell like anxiety, it's making me feel uncomfortable."

Lydia silently removes herself from the vehicle and heads straight for the exit. She feels like a chicken with its head cut off, confused and still very shaken. The build up for that moment had been so designed; Calvin definitely wanted her to think he was going to do something. So why hadn't he? Was he just trying to manipulate her into thinking he was? Was he lying about the Ferris wheel also? At this point, she just wanted to go home and curl into a ball on her bed. **Alone**.

x-x-x

Stiles drove Lydia home after they all went on the haunted house ride. They'd almost gotten in trouble when Malia punched one of the robots that pop up along the sides as the track rolls you through on the seat, but they had managed to sneak away before anyone noticed that the plastic creature was now headless. It was then that they decided to end the night and go their own ways. Calvin offered Lydia a ride, but she was grateful when Stiles insisted he drive her because her house was on the way.

When she entered her room and let the door thud shut behind her, she'd never felt such a strong desire to call Allison. To invite her over. They could talk about anything, she'd even let her talk about Scott or Isaac or any other dumb thing in the world if it meant she'd be _here_.

"Allison," she whispers tearfully to the air. "Where are you?"

Three rhythmic knocks sound gently from under her bed. Lydia freezes for a very long moment, her surroundings silent and still as she hones her senses in one that one spot. It's hidden by the blanket overhanging on the side of her bed, but she knows what's under there. It's the box.

She draws in a shaky breath. "_Allison_?" Three more knocks, identical as before. Lydia gasps and takes a step backwards; sweat beginning to pool under her arms and accumulating at the neckline of her shirt. She should call Scott. She should call him _now._ But she can't move. She can only stare, her shoulders and neck tense; afraid to inhale and exhale because it might mean missing an important sound.

Finally, she takes a step forward. One step. But there is no reaction, no other sound. So she tries her name again. "Ally?" Zip. Zilch. _Nothing_.

After another long twenty seconds, Lydia shakes her hands to clear her fright. "This is stupid," she tells herself, and forces her jelly legs forward, bending down to her knees and lifting the edge of the blanket. Only the box sat there, the same words scrawled in Allison's handwriting on the note, "_For Lydia_".

For the first time, she wants to open it. She wants Allison here with her, and was obviously meant to see whatever was inside. She didn't know why she was hearing a sound under her bed, but it could be Allison. It could be Allison wanting to communicate with her. Maybe that was a new banshee power as well, interacting with the dead. The thought sent something sick spiraling in her stomach, because Allison was the only dead person she wanted to talk to.

Lydia pulls the box from under its usual position under her bed, placing it on the surface of her bed before chewing on the bed of her nail. All that was left was to find the courage to look inside. To feel like she was worthy to know the message Allison left behind for her when she was the one that got her killed in the first place. "She wants me to see this," she reminds herself, sweaty shaking hands reaching toward the cardboard covering.

With the force of will, Lydia snaps the climatic tension when she abruptly pulls the top off, no longer wishing to feel like she was in a horror movie.

It only got worse, because she finally saw what was inside.

_And she screamed._


	7. Little House

**A/N: I'm trying to update quickly because I'm going on vacation soon and I may have to take a bit of a hiatus from this story for two or three weeks (unless I can fit some writing in while I'm up there). So I want to get as many chapters out before I go!**

**I got really bad chills while writing this chapter and they won't go away!**

**Tina****: I would message you personally like I do with most reviews, but because you're a guest I can't. Still, I want to thank you for the support you give me in every chapter! It's much appreciated.**

**Kodt24:**** Thank you for enjoying and also for hating me! As long as you love me just a little bit more, I can deal with that!**

Also, thank you to all of you for getting this story to 100 reviews! You guys are truly amazing!

* * *

_**Little House**_

"_She doesn't look, she doesn't see… Opens up for nobody_

_Figures out, she figures out  
Narrow line, she can't decide, everything's short of suicide_

_Never hurts, nearly works._

_Something is scratching its way out…_

_Something you want to forget about."_

_- The Fray_

Six

Lydia is hysterical as she dials the numbers to Stiles' cell, her clammy hands slipping over the keys of her phone as desperately tries to get in touch with him. If she'd given herself a moment to consider it, she would've called Scott, but she was working purely on instinct right now. Lydia can't even begin to form a coherent thought; she can't process what just happened. All she can do is call Stiles. The ringing doesn't last long, but for Lydia every second sends a more painful tendril spiking in her heart. The need to vomit was growing as her stomach swirled uncomfortably.

"Hey," Stiles answers quietly, his voice barely even there.

She wants to say something but she can't get the words out, can't stop sobbing. This time, she isn't even embarrassed. An arm grasps her chest as it becomes difficult to breathe when she begins hyperventilating. "The box –" she cries out, "the box Allison gave me."

"What?" Instead of trying to soothe her, he immediately goes for answers. "Lydia, _what_ box?" he asks sternly. He knows he sounds harsh, but it's impossible for him to be comforting right now. Not with the news his father just gave him.

Lydia chokes as she sucks in a great deal of oxygen, finally able to stop the steady stream of tears long enough to get a chance to breathe. She was almost beginning to turn blue. "Chris Argent gave me a box of stuff Allison put together for me!" She stumbles over her explanation a few times in her haste to get it out. "I haven't opened it until now and…" she swallows hard as her eyes trail back over to her comforter, where the box still sits open. "The only thing inside was the dress I wore to Allison's wake. _Her_ dress." she shudders and a tear trickles across her lips. "It's completely soaked in blood."

"Blood?" Stiles pales. "_Whose_ blood?"

"I don't know, Stiles!" She's now wishing she'd called Scott. "God, can't you just be a little sympathetic?" she digs her nails into the skin of her arm as she rants. "You're so selfish lately, Stiles! You don't even try to be there for me, you're not understanding how upset I am right now!" she's as overwrought as before, unconcerned with how offended he'd be or how overemotional she may seem. There was absolutely no reason for _that_ dress to be in that box, especially covered in blood that could belong to anyone.

Immediately, Calvin came to Lydia's mind. He did tell her he was going to show her not to mess with him for allowing Stiles to touch her hand. She originally thought he was going to immediately retaliate, to hurt Stiles. This was something else entirely, and she was now worried about her other friends. If Calvin had gone after them and left their blood on the dress… No, it didn't make sense. She was with Calvin a half hour ago, he didn't have the time to do any of this.

"Lydia," Stiles says low, but forceful.

"No! Don't even talk to me right now, I don't want to hear your stupid voice." Yet she doesn't hang up.

"_Lydia_," he says more firmly.

She decides to listen to what he has to say, crossing her arms as she remains quiet. She'll tear him a new one when he's finished with whatever lame apology he's about to deliver. Then she'll call Scott just to be sure that he's okay.

Stiles waits a moment to confirm her cooperation before gulping down his emotion and telling her news that would surely devastate her. "Allison's body is missing."

Her silence is deafening.

x-x-x

Stiles was mentally preparing himself to call Lydia when she coincidentally rang him. The phone slipped out of his sweaty hands and he had to fumble with it for a moment before catching it short a few inches from hitting the ground. He wasn't going to have any more time to figure out how he was going to tell her; any time to calm himself.

When he answered, he was overwhelmed by the frenzied weeping on the other end. He came to the immediate conclusion that Scott had already called and told her, but when she started rambling about a box that Allison left for her, he sucked in a sharp breath. There was no way that these two occurrences weren't related, and the possibility that someone had snuck into Lydia's room and left her bloody dress there sent him reeling. There were already so many things to be concerned about. Primarily, where Allison was and who took her; followed by who snuck into Lydia's room, how any why; and whose blood was on that dress.

Stiles hardly hears Lydia's vehement insults, because his head is clouded in its array of wild thoughts and fears. He didn't want to know why Allison was taken; he just wanted them to find her. Blinking away fresh hot tears, Stiles focuses on the girl he's talking to, saying her name until she stops babbling. And then he told her.

As her cries subside into nothingness, he briefly wonders if she hung up, so he checks the screen. The signal is still strong, so he gives her any time she needs to process this information, contemplating heading over to her house. She couldn't be in a right state.

"What?" Emotion cracks her question, and she sounds so weak and small that it physically hurts Stiles' chest.

His body convulses, distressed as he cradles the phone to his cheek, as if she can feel the motion of attempted comfort through the phone. He licks his peeling lips as he whispers, "I'm so sorry." He can hear her breathing. "The ground where her coffin is was completely burrowed in, like someone just took a shovel and started…" he stops short, realizing how hard this must be for her to hear a second too late.

"It's gone?" she gasps, unable to grasp the meaning of this. "_Allison_ is _gone?_"

"Yes," Stiles allows his eyes to shudder closed. "My dad just told me, they think it happened sometime earlier tonight."

Lydia can't let herself feel the weight of this right now, so she focuses on the prime suspect and what his alibi may be. "What time exactly?" She needs to know whether she can pin this on Calvin. If it was him, she's done. She'll kill the bastard who took Allison, whoever that may be.

Stiles' eyebrows knit together in confusion. She's not asking the important questions. "Lydia, did you even hear what I said?"

"What time, Stiles?" she snaps impatiently, running a hand through her thick head of hair and feeling the sweat at her hairline that she hadn't known was there.

"They don't know yet, my dad's at the station right now working on the details."

"Where's Scott?" Her heart is wildly beating.

Stiles sighs, "He's really messed up," he sits down on the end of his bed. Everything seems so much more real than usual. There's nothing mystical or supernatural about this. Allison's gone and it's so very… _real_. A disturbing prickle rolls up his arms as he imagines her limp body in a list of possible places it could be. The thing that was really terrifying was the _why_. What could someone need a dead Argent's body for? "He's home." He doesn't want to think about the turmoil Scott might be going through.

"It happened while we were at the fair," Lydia acknowledges under her breath.

"Yeah."

Lydia's eyes widen and her head jolts upwards. "Maybe I can find her."

"What?"

"I'm a dead body GPS, Stiles." She gestures wildly with her hands despite him being unable to see her, "Ugh, if only I knew how to control it…" she chews on the edge of her nail. "Maybe if I drive around I'll sense something." She's completely neutral on the fact that she may very well be walking into something very dangerous if she's successful in finding Allison's body. They still didn't have an inkling of why she was taken.

Stiles marvels at what a bad idea it is. "And what if we _do_ find her? What if it leads us right to her and whatever sicko dug her up?" he winces at his blatant choice of words.

"We don't have to walk right in there, we just need a location."

"I don't think…"

Lydia interrupts him angrily, "I'm going with or without you, Stiles! So be at my house in ten minutes or pretend we didn't have this conversation."

Stiles wants to call Scott and tell on her, but he's well aware of the fact that he can't. Scott can't emotionally handle being brought into this right now, and he probably wouldn't be in any shape to fight a baddie if it came to it. They were better off on their own, and Lydia was better off with Stiles than by herself. "I'll be there, but we're bringing that..._ box_ to the precinct first."

She can agree to that. "Okay."

Deciding not to look at the dress, Lydia moves away from her bedroom so she doesn't have to be anywhere near it until Stiles is there to help her. As the phone call ends, she allows herself to fall back against the wall out in the hall, sinking down it until she lands on the carpet on her bottom. It's only then that her remorse consumes her.

x-x-x

Stiles hadn't expected the floral dress to be sodden with blood. It was so excessive that it had leaked through the box and over the surface of Lydia's comforter. She was quick to throw out the entire thing before they left, ignoring his suggestion to just throw it in the wash. She didn't want it anymore anyway.

After closing the box and throwing it in a plastic bag that was spotted with blood before the end of the car ride, they bring it inside to his father. They received many curious and wary glances as they made their way through the station. The expression the sheriff had when he noticed their presence and what Stiles held in his hand was enough to make Lydia avert her eyes.

He was quick to pass it off to someone else when Lydia explained that she found it in her room, and it was whisked away to be what Stiles assumed was "studied" and probably tested, too. His father's reaction was only further confirming his strong belief that it had every bit to do with the missing body. Especially since the dress was hers. The fact that Lydia wore it to her wake was only icing on the very ominous cake.  
"What's gonna happen now?" Stiles had asked.

"I'm sorry, Stiles, but I really don't have time to talk right now," the sheriff told his son, regret shining in his eyes. "This is just… a very important case. You should go home and get some sleep." his eyes turn to the banshee. "Lydia, you're more than welcome to stay at our house if your mom isn't around, or even if you just want to."

Lydia would smile at his sweetness if her heart weren't so heavy. "Thank you."

"And you said you have no idea who could've been involved in this, right?" he asks gently, just to be certain. He bows his head at her expectantly. The guilty look Lydia attempted to hide when he'd originally asked her upon her entrance had been enough to spark a warning inside of him. He was professionally trained to spot a liar, and he was almost positive that Lydia knew more than she was letting on. Of course, she wasn't involved, but she was scared to say something.

Stiles is first to speak up, much to the sheriff's dismay. "Pfft, come on, dad. If we knew something we'd have gone after them _ourselves_ at this point."

"Hey," the sheriff points a stern finger at the younger Stilinski. "Don't talk like that. Not every circumstance is supernatural, and if you find out _anything_ about this case, you come to _me_. You understand me?"

Stiles nods slowly.

"Good." he glances toward a group of officers talking hushed about the new piece of evidence. "I have to go now. Take Lydia back home, and let her have the bed."

Stiles would crack a joke if things were different.

x-x-x

"Please let me in," Kira gently knocked the backside of her knuckles along the wooden bathroom door where Scott had locked himself in. They were in his room when they received Stiles' call and when it ended he claimed to need to go to the bathroom. She knew it was an excuse to walk away, but gave him a couple of minutes. When he didn't return, she went after him, but now he wasn't answering her and it was a little unnerving. "Scott?" There was a shuffling noise on the other side of the door.

"You should go home."

Kira's eyes watered as she heard him speak, his voice was broken and it was clear he was crying. It was a pretty rare sight, and it damaged her.

"I'm not leaving you," Kira sniffled, running her nails over the door. "Please just come out and we can talk."

"I can't… I can't _do_ that." he whimpered. "I can't do any of this."

Kira's chin wrinkles as she begins to cry for Scott and his heartache. It wasn't at all common for him to express the bereavement he felt for Allison's death because he never wanted to talk about it and Kira hadn't pushed him. He'd been so convincing in keeping up cheerful pretenses that she would've been convinced he'd moved on if she didn't know how close he and Allison were. It wasn't that she was able to see much of it, but she'd spoken about it with Lydia many times. They were once in love, and the fatal wound Allison received was identical to the one Scott wore every day.

"What do you need me to do?" She pleaded openly. "I'll do anything." The quiet seconds wore on as his cries faded into silence. "Scott?"

The door rushes open so suddenly that she has to jump back to avoid it connecting with her face. Her boyfriend is determined in his stride, his red eyes the only indication that he'd ever been crying in the first place.

"What are you doing?" Worry engulfs her as she follows him into his bedroom, where he is now angrily pulling on his sneakers.

"I'm going to track her scent."

"Will it still…work?"

"There's no reason it shouldn't."

"Then you're gonna have to stop by the Argent house to grab something you can get her scent off of," Kira tells him in a way that suggests she's trying to keep him from doing it. He's in no shape to be out there facing… anything. It could literally be _anything_, and he wasn't prepared for it.

"Uhh," Scott finishes loosely tying his shoes. "I kind of memorized it by now," he replies curtly, moving toward his closet and pulling out a little purple sweater that was sitting in its own drawer. "But just in case."

Kira watches him inhale with shock written across her face, her body still because she can't say anything about it. But she can't help it. "You have her sweater?" She asks sedately, although unable to hide a spark of surprise underlying her question.

Scott turns guilty eyes on the girl. "Kira, I'd love to sit and explain this to you but I really have to go." he presses a chaste kiss to her temple but she bows her head sadly.

"I don't want you to go," she confesses quietly. "What if you get in a fight?"

The werewolf's heart swells, weakened by her tender voice. If he doesn't go, the images of some bastard keeping Allison's body somewhere that wasn't her rightful grave would haunt his brain. If he does go, he'll later feel horrible about it for Kira's sake, but she'll move on from it. This had to be done, because even in her death, Scott needed to protect Allison. "I'll be back baby, I promise."

The term of endearment was the last straw before Kira was really crying. He'd never called her that before. "Okay," she manages weakly, feeling him offer her hand a final squeeze before he and Allison's sweater were out the door. As the front door sounds an echoing slam, Kira can't help but wonder what other things Scott may have kept from her.

x-x-x

Lydia had her head out the window, her eyes searching and her body stiff. She could feel a migraine coming on, courtesy of pushing herself too hard. This wasn't something she'd practiced before, and she wasn't even sure if this was something a banshee was capable of doing. Still, Lydia felt instinct tugging her toward that decision, because something primal told her that she was capable of it if she just figured out how to trigger that part of her ability.

Every few seconds, Stiles would glance toward the girl, waiting for her to tell him to stop, to turn left or right or just give up. But she was having a hard time, and he could see it plain as day. He didn't need to see her face to know that.

"Drive slower," she snapped suddenly, self-loathing at being unable to help her best friend for a final time. This could be her way of making up for being such a terrible friend, for letting her die and for not saying goodbye at the wake. Lydia's eyes darkened in shame at the realization that she'd never be able to make up for what she did.

"_Anything_?" Stiles stresses impatiently, watchful of the asphalt illuminated only by the headlights of his jeep. They were approaching a more unfamiliar part of Beacon Hills, a low-budget area that he never had any reason to visit in the past. He doubted they'd find Allison anywhere around here.

"We're in the East side of Beacon Hills," Lydia muses. "No, this isn't right. Turn around."

Stiles sighs, "Turning around," he obeys, rotating the wheel as he flipped the shift into reverse.

Lydia's fingers grasp the side of the vehicle below the open window to stop herself from falling against the seat as Stiles performs a U-turn. In complete concentration, her eyes scan the woods along the side of the winding road. Something about that collection of trees had her skin prickling, something unknown but somehow familiar. This was the right woods, but not the right entrance. They had to go back.

"The preserve," she shouts frenetically, recognition hitting her as her mouth opened. Anxious air leaves her lips, "The Nemeton."

The driver does a double-take in her direction. "Ah," he sputters, "I don't like this anymore."

"_Stiles, drive!"_ She doesn't have time for him to second guess his decision to come with her. Lydia will gladly leave him on the side of the road if he didn't want to go, but she was damn well going to take his car.

"_No_, Lydia!" He slams his foot on the brake, causing them both to jerk forward against their seatbelts. "I'm calling Scott."

"You are most certainly not!" When Stiles pulls out his cell phone, Lydia launches forward and smacks the thing from his hands, causing it to fly upwards.

"What the hell –" he shouts as they both grab for the phone, causing a tug-o-war match between the pair.

Clever as she was, Lydia pinches the skin on Stiles' arm, a satisfying yelp echoing off the sides of the car.

"Ow, ow!" Stiles relents when Lydia motions to bite him, releasing the device and reeling back into his seat with his other hand gripping his injured wrist. "You _pinched_ me!" he shrieks. After taking an anxious breath, he points a strong finger at her. "And you were gonna bite me!"

Lydia admires the way his arm angrily flexes, thick blue veins outlined under the small dark hairs aligning his forearm. A sly smile perks her face as her eyes move up his loose red t-shirt to find his miffed gaze and the irked twist of his lips, "You should've known better."

Stiles could testify in a courtroom that he could swear he saw Lydia checking him out, but he brushed that disruptive thought aside because it was impossible. "_Okay_," he re-adjusts his shirt and presses his foot softly on the pedal without any further acquiescence, wanting to wipe, no _kiss_ the smug look off of Lydia's face. That would shut her up. He didn't feel the smirk until Lydia asked,

"What the hell are _you_ smiling about?"

"_Nothing_."

x-x-x

Scott knew exactly where he was being led when he was a few blocks away from the preserve. It didn't stop him, but his worry was definitely getting the best of him. Not for himself, but for Kira and Lydia and Stiles, for how they would react if something really did happen to him tonight. He knew that even if he had to choose, he'd continue chasing Allison until it killed him. She deserved every bit of that honorable burial she got, every goodbye her friends and small bit of family had uttered. She was unceremoniously dug up like an unfinished project, something to be stolen. He was going to kill whoever was responsible for that.

Her smell was so strong now, although it was not the sweeter scent of apples he'd grown used to when they spent time together. All of his friends had a smell. Stiles was freshly cut wood and sometimes grass, and it was reassuring. Lydia was honey suckle, strawberries and the pages of musty books, refreshing and sweet. Kira was a rainy day and a sprinkle of cinnamon, like a mug of cocoa in a storm. Allison's had been poisoned by her death, citrus apples replaced by a tainted twinge of something foul and rotting. It twisted Scott's stomach.

He almost vomited when his eyes located the Nemeton, Allison's prone body stiffly lain across the top. The sight of her, skin drying and nails nearly completely fallen off, head balding and the hair that was left was dried and ready to break. It was when he finally looked at her sunken in cheeks that he really did throw up, expelling his stomach's contents on a pile of leaves.

"Allison," he cried, clenching his midsection sickly as he shivered. The ground beneath him grumbled slightly as the Nemeton began to shake and twist, or at least appear to, as a blue energy grew up from the surrounding ground and folded over Allison's figure.

"No!" Scott shouted, watching stupefied as the energy moved to swallow her whole. Then it squashed into a circular orb, floating upwards from her mouth like a breath of air. It flashed and spun, and then it was speedily flying through the woods, swaying treetops and leaving a whistling of wind behind.

The young werewolf was unable to process what he just saw, but he did know that he could smell Stiles and Lydia headed this way from a distance. He had no idea what that little ball of energy was doing, but it couldn't be good, and he didn't want his friends anywhere near it. Taking one longing glance at Allison's body, Scott makes a silent promise to return as he tears in the direction of their scents.

x-x-x

It wasn't until they were nearly to the preserve that a feeling of dread began to build inside of Lydia with each roll of the tires. It was growing worse, a knocking noise blaring in her head, three knocks like the indication of death in old legends. It made her uneasy and carsick, and with a fierce change in attitude, she didn't want to go anymore. It was the fear that something could happen to Stiles that finally did the trick, a brief reminder of that strange encounter they had behind her house. The one that could very well have been a warning of death if nothing else. She was ready to say as much until Stiles' voice broke the atmosphere of the car,

"Scott!"

Lydia turned her head in the direction Stiles was looking and there was Scott rushing toward the car at a run. She stares in a thoughtful daze until the shutting of Stiles' car door breaks her out of her trance.

"What's going on!?" She hears Stiles call to Scott as he approaches.

"No, get back in the car!" Scott roars, shoving Stiles toward the vehicle.

With question in his eyes, Stiles does as he's told and finds himself back in front of the wheel, fully expecting Scott to get in the backseat. Except he doesn't. "Scott, come on!" The door is cracked opened so he can talk to him.

"I found Allison on the Nemeton," Scott relays, panting for air. There's a wild panic in his eyes as he tries to explain as quickly as possible. "There was some kind of energy wrapping around her."

"Is she okay?" Lydia squeaks out before she can stop herself. It's just after she asks that she realizes how it sounds. Of course she wasn't okay. She's dead.

Scott offers Lydia a sympathetic look in understanding. "After it was done swallowing her, it just turned into this ball and flew through the woods. I smelled you guys coming, and I was worried. I don't know what happened to it."

"Swallowing her, what does that mean?" Lydia knew there were other concerns, like whatever energy he was talking about and where it may be headed, but she could only think about Allison.

"She's okay, Lydia," Scott answers lowly, restating her earlier question as an answer. She knows what it means. She's okay, but she's not…okay.

"Okay." A shaky whisper and it's enough.

"Can we focus on this magical energy for a second here?" Stiles breaks in, slicing a hand in the air.

"We should get out of here first," Scott finally gets in the back.

Stiles is driving off as Lydia chimes in, panicked "What about Allison!?"

"I'll tell the sheriff she's there in a little bit, when we know it's safe," Scott tells her gently, wholly understanding her behavior. If he didn't have to be the responsible pack leader, his wavelength of thought would be phasing in a similar frequency.

They blindly drive around Beacon Hills for the next hour, searching for something out of place, something that was probably horrible. They discussed theories on why Allison's body was needed to perform whatever ritual was used to create that energy, what that energy could be and who was doing it and why.

There were just far too many questions, and it was unsettling for the pack's leader, who was meant to hold the answers. One thing Scott knew for certain, he was calling Deaton the moment he got home. Maybe he'd even show up at the vet.

Unfortunately, their aimless drive went nowhere and Stiles was dropping everyone off home without any further discussion. Stiles had called his father during the thoughtful silence that came after they agreed upon ending their hopeless quest, both Lydia and Scott frightened and angry with themselves for not coming up with anything. He pulled to the side of the road and dialed the familiar number. After assuring the older Stilinski that he was unharmed and on his way home, Stiles hung up his phone and forced his concentration back on the road.

"They're on their way to the preserve," he informs his friends. "He told me he wouldn't go alone."

"That's good," Scott mutters emptily, watching the houses fade by through the window. Every time he closes his eyes, the sight of Allison's decaying body is there. He knows full well that it's going to be in his nightmares tonight, and tomorrow, and for a long time; possibly the rest of his life.

Stiles is adamant on getting one of them to talk, to end the sadness enveloping the entire car and following them along every turn of the road. "Scott, aren't you going to call Kira?" It's nearly 4am and the longest night of their lives, but the Kitsune was probably still wide awake and worried.

"Aren't you going to call Malia?" He shoots back, desperate to take the attention away from him. He didn't want to call Kira now; she didn't need to know about any of this. Scott had worked so hard to keep his mourning of Allison away from Kira, away from everyone. Now that Stiles and Lydia could see him in all his raw lowliness, he couldn't let Kira see that too.

"She doesn't know about any of this," Stiles says plainly. "Kira's probably worried, you know."

Scott narrows his eyes at his friend, who can't seem to mind his own business. "Maybe I'll call her when I get home."

Stiles licks his lips as he tries again. "For her sake, I'm just saying -"

"Stiles, back off!" Scott growls, flopping resigned against his seat just after his outburst.

Lydia can feel the tension turn awkward as the car is once again as silent as Allison's empty coffin. She feels for Scott, although she doesn't directly say so. She hopes he can feel it in the way her fingers reach forward to brush along his shoulder, a reassuring gesture. After a small delay, his left hand goes up to rest over hers and it's enough.

When the car stops in front of Scott's house, he's quick with goodbyes and rushes out. The remaining pair stares at his back until he's safely inside.

Lydia watches Stiles eyes sadly turn down to his lap, likely thinking over the small argument he had with Scott. She wanted to cry at the sight, knowing just how close the boys were. From friends to brothers, they were inseparable. Immediately, she felt the urge to cheer him up, but she wasn't sure how.

Placing either hand on both front seats, she gains Stiles' attention as she climbs across the stick shift to plop herself in the passenger seat, flashing Stiles a bright smile.

"Hi," she said, tilting her head at him and blinking animatedly. Instead of reacting, he stares at her for a long moment. At each passing millisecond, Lydia grows more self-conscious, feeling moronic for attempting that. Of course it wouldn't work. He wasn't in the mood to laugh and she wasn't funny anyway.

"_Hi_," Stiles starts questionably, his eyes bemused and his expression bewildered. "What are you doing?" he asks, a playful edge to his tone matching a pair of lips curved upwards in a way that was uniquely Stiles.

"I'm sorry, is someone sitting here?" she checks the seat with her hands, as if to make sure she isn't on top of someone invisible.

Stiles watches her, studying. One hand is still propped up on the wheel, although his attention remains on her. "Why are you acting so strange?" The car hums, still set on 'park'.

The banshee squirms uncomfortably, feeling her plan to make him laugh quickly failing. Now he was only questioning her odd behavior and she was going to look stupid if she tried to explain. She was just the crazy girl crushing on a guy who was, for the most part, with someone else. Taking his mind off his fight with Scott, off the dreary lengthiness of this night, it wasn't going to work. At the end of the day, when they both lay their heads down on their pillows, they'll be thinking about Allison and the Nemeton and whatever other obstacle was thrown at them.

"I… Nevermind," Lydia's shrinks into the seat, a few pieces of hair releasing from its position behind her ear and swinging in front of her face, successfully hiding her embarrassment.  
Stiles blows a large breath of air between pursed lips. "Oh, man," he mutters to himself with a wistful shake of his head. "You just keep doing that."

"What?" Lydia's eyebrows knit together as she becomes closed off, unwilling to open up.

"Lydia…" he clucks his tongue like he almost doesn't want to get into it, but eventually he just can't help himself. "You do this thing, where you're funny and sweet and then within a second," he snaps his fingers, "you recede into yourself like you wanna evaporate. And it seems like you're only getting worse. I can't even remember the last time I saw you laugh and really mean it."

Lydia's heart stutters. He never even suggested that he noticed any of that. He acted so ignorant all the time, like he didn't see her. But he knew things. "_I laugh_," she tries, although weakly.

"Yeah, you pretend to laugh," Stiles drawls with a roll of his eyes, turning his head toward her. With the heaviness of this day, he doesn't mind telling her the truth, the things they usually all keep to themselves. They'd become so good at it that it was hard to talk about what they felt, about their pain and their happiness and their secrets. He and Scott were still brothers, but they'd definitely drifted since Allison's demise. His relationship with Lydia was in even worse shape. "I just want us to be close again," his voice quivers, thick with emotion. "I miss the sassy little detective I knew."

Lydia desperately wants to resist the temptation of his call. On any day before she met Calvin, she'd be hopeless to his confession. She'd reach over and hug him and tell him how glad she was to hear that, that she thought he'd forgotten about her. She truly had, but now he was asking for something she could no longer offer. Not when Calvin was whispering threats in her ear. If anything happened to Stiles and it was her fault, just as Allison was, she couldn't come back from that.

She dares take a glance his way and is immediately captured by his watering eyes, a silent plea. He needed her friendship back as much as she did. Tears drop freely from Lydia's eyes when she asks herself why he couldn't realize that sooner. She lowers her head as she weeps.

"Hey, don't cry," Stiles implores dolorously, his pouty lower lip wobbling dangerously. "If you start with the waterworks then I'm definitely gonna turn into a blubbering mess," he's joking, but he's slowly crumbling as the words come out. Lydia smiles through her tears. "It's gonna be ugly," he adds, a choked laugh from the girl causing a seizing in his chest.

Lydia wipes her tears away with the sleeves of her jacket, knowing her mascara was probably unforgivingly streaked across her forehead.

"We should get back to my house; maybe we can get some sleep before school in…" he reaches between her legs for the phone she earlier chucked in the corner of the floor in front of her, oblivious to the fact that she's blushing. "Three hours."

"Your house?"

"Well, yeah," Stiles presses on the pedal. "Like you're going back to an empty house after you found that bloody dress."

Lydia sniffles at the lasting tears on her face, remembering the fuzziness of earlier in the night with a sudden clarity. It had all happened so fast, and she was so unbelievably exhausted. "Oh yeah." Maybe she would skip school. Calvin couldn't bother her then.

"Speaking of the dress," Stiles begins. "Where was the last place you saw it? I mean – before finding it in the box," he clarifies sheepishly.

"I don't know…? My laundry, the closet?" She leans her head back against the headrest as her weariness consumes her. "I'm really not sure," her voice is full of razorblades as she begins to consciously dream, images of something colorful dancing under her eyelids.

"Well maybe -" Stiles stops short when he takes a look at her. "_And_ - you're asleep."

She unconsciously groans in confirmation.

"Good talk."

x-x-x

When Scott can finally hide in his own house, he believes he'll be able to let his guard down long enough to shower and force himself to sleep.

He thought he'd pushed all of this down, but his grief was returning like a fit of regurgitation, making him once again come to terms with Allison and everything that happened last year. It had been easier lately, not thinking about it, just being with Kira and surrounding himself with small things that brought him happiness. The supernatural would always find them, and right now it was personal.

So when Scott entered his room to discover Kira sitting on his bed, he was only further emotionally drained until there was nothing left but exhaustion and pain.

"Scott," Kira gasps at the sight of him, rushing toward him. She's ready to hug him, but her arms stop mid-way through their journey. Something about the dimness of his face was a warning, and she didn't want to piss him off any more than he seemed to be. "What happened?" she queries shyly, watchful of his eyes in case they tell her something important.

"Please go home," he croaks, all but collapsing forward onto his bed as his night catches up with him.

"Scott!" Kira kneels by his side, alarmed. "Should I call your mom?"

"No!" he demands, though his face is smothered by the pillow he's pressed against. "Don't call anyone, just go."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" She doesn't want to say her name and make it worse.

Scott flips over in the bed, the entire thing bouncing at his prompt turn. "Yes. I can't talk about this now." he huffs with heavy eyes as he realizes, "I forgot, I have to call Deaton."

"That can wait until tomorrow, you're too tired." she runs her hands over his arms comfortingly. "Let me get this jacket off you, come on."

After a moment's hesitation, Scott decides that sleeping without such bulky clothing would probably be a better idea. He sits forward, feeling her warm hands slide briefly over the skin of his stomach as she pulls off his jacket, the cotton of his shirt briefly sticking to the material.

She blushes automatically, mumbling an apology as she places the jacket neatly folded on his end table. "Shoes?" she offers helpfully.

"Yeah," he lets her take the reins, flopping back onto his pillow.

As Kira pulls off his sneakers, her nose wrinkles involuntarily, "Your feet stink."

He lifts his head just enough to give her a mock-judgmental look.

"I-I just mean that they're sweaty," her shoulders lift upwards and the embarrassed Kitsune says no more as she climbs in beside him. She won't even bother to wake him up in time for school, because honestly, screw it. The only real thing she had to worry about was what she was going to tell her parents about her abrupt text claiming to be spending a school night at Malia's.

x-x-x

"Tell me we're skipping school today," Stiles begs as he changes his bed sheets, tossing the pillows off the bed to tug the fabric over the corners.

Lydia stands in the middle of his room watching his movements, her body weighed down by the exhaustion she knew they both felt. "Trig test," she reminds him with thinly set lips, wanting nothing more than to curl in a ball and sleep for days at a time.  
"_Trig_," Stiles reiterates hatefully, picking up his pillows to set them sloppily back on the bed. "I think our parents will let it slide if we miss school this one time, we were searching for a body all night!" He speaks bluntly, but neither of them feels the remark is insensitive. It was true.

"Yeah, well I can't tell my mom that," Lydia snorted. "and if I did, she'd probably have a cardiovascular event."

"Have you considered… telling her? About everything?"

"No way," the look Lydia gives him tells him how crazy she thinks the suggestion is. "My mom would pack me up and move us out of Beacon Hills quicker than you can say…" she can't think of a funny retort. " – something that is easy to say."

"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?"

Lydia smirks at the cuter version of Marry Poppins standing in a t-shirt before her. "I'm pretty sure she'd already have us across the country before you finished saying that."

"Okay, so ixnay on the olfsway." He can definitely see her point.

"Appreciate it," Lydia says with a nod, feeling the awkward tension rise another degree. "So...is sleeping in store or are we going to keep rambling at each other?"

"Oh! Right." Stiles scratches his head as he takes in her clothing. "Do you want a shirt or something?"

Lydia looks down at her uncomfortable choice of attire. She'd only planned on going to the fair, so she was still in a fashionable little outfit that clung too tightly in areas that would certainly be left with pink imprints.

"That would be nice." As he moves toward his dresser and starts poking through messily folded piles she asks, "Where am I sleeping?"

"That would be the bed." Stiles runs his fingers over his favorite t-shirt, neatly tucked in the back of the drawer, and he slowly glances back at her. "Feel lucky. Only very choice people get to sleep on the king's throne." He returns to his drawer, admiring the soft blue shirt with his touch. Without further thought, he pulls the thing from its resting place and hands it to her.

"Choice people," Lydia's eyes roll toward the ceiling as she considers this, lips inverted thoughtfully. "I guess that would be Malia and Scott."

Avoiding the topic of his very close lady friend, Stiles twitches his lips. "Actually, Scott takes the floor."

Lydia narrows her eyes suspiciously, "Liar. You two are cut from the same piece of cloth, there's no way you wouldn't share a bed."

It was true, Stiles was lying, but he couldn't think of anything else to say without leaving a blaringly obvious pause in conversation, and pausing before being declared a liar would only make it more evident. He shrugs, attempting to appear sly and unshaken. "You'll never really know, I guess."

Lydia stares at him with judgment before, "Pfft," tightening her hands over the shirt in her hands she gestures toward the door with it, "I'm going to the bathroom to change."

"You do that," Stiles says over his shoulder, having now returned to his drawers to find his own pajamas. Lately, he liked to sleep without a shirt on, but he wasn't about to expose his _amazing body_ in front of Lydia. _She couldn't handle it,_ Stiles thought to himself confidently, ignoring the twinge of self-consciousness that told him that wasn't at all true.

Lydia avoided her reflection until it was absolutely necessary. Pulling off her skirt was unsurprisingly difficult, and she could feel the marks left behind from the waistband before she even saw the little indentations there. The prices it paid to be a fashionable woman. More distracting than what her clothing left behind were the slowly healing scratches on her thigh. With a frown, she runs the tips of her fingers over the spot, still a little sensitive to the touch. She dreaded seeing Calvin later, and she wasn't going to be in the right mood to deal with his antics. A thought occurred to her as she considered how angry Calvin would be if he knew where she was right now. Thankfully, he thought she went home after the fair and that was that.

She pulls the soft blue t-shirt over her head when she's down to her bra and panties, unexpectedly soft against her stomach, back and upper thighs. The fabric almost seemed to caress the sad scratches on her leg, like Stiles was comforting her even without his presence. Tonight had been such a reassurance that he was still there, that he still saw her. It was pretty clear to her now, that a lot of his distance was caused by the desire to avoid talking or even thinking about Allison.

Taking a step toward the mirror, Lydia flinches at how worn she looks. It makes her appear older, and it isn't attractive in the least. The bags under her eyes run deep, giving off the impression that they have been there longer than the lengthy stress of this past day. She wraps a hand in her hair and pulls it to one side, a collection of thick red hair frizzing to the left of her face.

Lydia hated her reflection; she hated her smeared makeup and the stained tears on her cheeks that seemed to always be there. Stiles had probably already compared her night-look to the one Malia wore when she cuddled with him at night. A tall beautiful light-haired and tanned brunette with a figure Lydia would die for. What was she? Petite, freckled, pale and short.

When Lydia finally made her way back into Stiles room, saw him in a pair of plaid deep green sweatpants and a grey-tank top that accented his body in a very positive way. Working out was definitely one of Stiles' better decisions. Going to the gym with Scott was a pretty regular thing for him, now.

Although he knew Lydia in nothing but his favorite t-shirt would be a sight to behold, Stiles was unprepared for how actually seeing it would affect him. It was something he'd wanted for years, it had even made a few appearances in his dreams sophomore year. It was usually a tighter fit, but on her frame it was loose and longer, edging to her upper thighs and scraping along the milky skin there, something that really caused a stir in Stiles' loins.

He clears his throat as her eyebrows furrowed at his stunned silence. "Looks good on you," he manages to speak evenly.

"Nice pants," Lydia smirks at him, her eyes running over the material and stopping on his… Her head jolts up to force eye contact. "They're green."

Stiles chews his lip as he watches her warily. "They _are_," he confirms.

"So if I'm taking the bed… where are you going to sleep?" Lydia threads her fingers through her hair nervously, unsure of what else to do with them. Her toes press against the carpeting.

"Ah," he runs a hand over the back of his neck as he admires their surroundings. "I can set something up on the floor." for his own pride he adds, "Y'know, like Scott." Because sharing a bed with your also male best friend may be interpreted badly, and knowing Lydia, she'd think he and Scott were big babies for it.

"_Of course_," Lydia concurs, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. "But seriously, you don't have to sleep on the floor." she remains a calm exterior as she shrugs her shoulders. "We can share."

Stiles isn't sure if he heard her correctly. "Can we… we can what?" he stretches out his ear lobe. "I don't think I caught that."

Lydia saunters toward the bed, running two flat palms across the surface. "There's a lot of bed here. More than enough to go around." She doesn't mean to sound like she's trying to seduce him, but it was kind of an automatic reaction to the circumstances. She was scantily clad, he was in an adorable pair of Stiles-friendly pajamas, and they were alone and tired in his room late at night. There was never a better opportunity, and if things didn't go the way she wanted them to she could blame it on her exhaustion in the morning. It wasn't like she was going to kiss him or anything. She just wanted to remind him that she was there and maybe hint at just how _there_ she really was. Calvin isn't here, and he can't stop her.

"Okay, sure, but…." a tongue flicks out to moisten his dry lips. It's an excuse to figure out what to say. If she were pranking him she would've already laughed and snidely commented, "In your dreams, Stilinski."

"If you want, you can get in first and close your eyes so that when _I_ get in it's like I'm not even there."

Who is Stiles to argue with the logic of a future Fields Medal winner? "Okay," he agrees before it's too late. Not that he wanted to back out. Even as he climbs in the bed, he can't stop the feelings of guilt from running over his shoulders. Malia wouldn't like this, but it wasn't like they were a couple. And this was only sleeping. Just sleeping.

He hears her flick off the light, and he doesn't even need to close his eyes because it's pitch black. The shuffling sound of his comforter is beside his left ear, and then a sudden weight is added to the bed as pressure is added to his side. A waft of strawberry shampoo hits his senses as she lays her head on the pillow there.

Stiles swallows hard as his heart beats erratically, caused only by Lydia's close proximity. Only a few days ago they weren't able to speak to each other in full sentences, and now they were sleeping in his bed.

"How's Malia?" Lydia's voice comes from nowhere, breaking into the tired silence of the room. It moves in rhythm with his heart.

Stiles is taken off guard by the sudden question, his mouth parted without anything coming out for a long four seconds. "I – she's good. She's really good." He wonders if that was the right thing to say.

"That's good," comes Lydia's sleep laced response, her head turned away from his.

"_Yeah_," he mumbles, further mulling over his choice of wording and if it was what she wanted to hear. He was asking himself why she even wanted to know that, especially now. His considerations are interrupted by his yawn as a haze of darkness takes over his entire being until he's quickly pulled into a deep sleep.

That night, he dreams of eating strawberries at Allison's grave.


	8. Fader

**A/N: Last chapter before my vacation, where there's a good chance I'll be taking a 2-3 week hiatus from this story, as I probably won't have the time to write. **_**However**_**, if I do, you can be sure that I'll be updating. This chapter isn't so much fun as the next one will be, but I hope you still like it.**

**In case you guys wanted to know, I do make cover art for every chapter of this story. If you'd like to see that kind of stuff, you can follow me on tumblr. My URL is Summerwick.**

* * *

_**Fader**_

_Floating stranded on this boat_

_And I pledge my self allegiance_

_To a better night sleep at home_

_And the sweet sweet sun's coming down hard_

_The sun's coming down hard_

_It burns the bones so hold a hand for cover_

_Hold a hand for cover_

_Hold a hand for cover from harm_

_Talk don't change a thing,_

_It's fading fader_

- The Temper Trap

Seven

The rest of the week went by tantalizingly slow for Lydia, especially because Stiles thought he was doing her a favor by inviting Calvin to start sitting with them at lunch. She could still picture the effortful way he took him aside and told him he was sorry for not trying to get to know him better. Stiles had finally recognized his own unfiltered behavior and apologized for it, but to the one person who didn't deserve it.

Scott seemed really surprised to learn that news, as Stiles had never expressed any remote interesting in knowing Lydia's new flame before. At the strawberry haired girls questioning eyes, he simply shrugged and told her to ask Stiles himself.

She very well planned to, at least at some point during their camping trip this weekend.

A loud laugh echoes from somewhere outside, and Lydia peers out the open window to the driveway. The pack is loading their duffel bags and backpacks into the back of Kira's father's minivan. He was outside making her promise to be especially careful with it, and agree that only she, Scott and Stiles would be driving. Lydia tried not feel as if that were a jab at her driving ability.

Still Lydia had a very good feeling about this trip. Granted, she'd be without privacy for the next 48 hours and if she found herself having another anxiety attack she wouldn't be able to lock herself behind the door of her bedroom and wait it out.

Her attention is caught by Scott, worriedly whispering into his cell phone.

"I just think that maybe I should skip this trip, it's not too late to back out," his eyebrows are rimmed, his nerves rattling him in a way that prevented him from keeping still. "We still don't know anything about that _ball," _he talks like the concept is unfathomable, "- of mystical blue energy and why Allison's body was necessary for it. What if they just dig her up again?"

Lydia can already accurately predict that it's Deaton he's panicking to. She frowns for his sake. It's clear that it is more than just the Nemeton that has Scott acting up. He doesn't want to go because of something else. Lydia's eyes trail toward Kira as she warily considers the reasons that might scare him away from the trip he was so adamant that they all go on. Kira was laughing with Malia, so there was no dead giveaway as to whether or not she and Scott were fighting about something.

Lydia's face scrunches as she realizes that the kitsune and the werewolf hadn't had many interactions these past couple of days. She probably should've noticed that sooner, but her head was in so many different places lately, that she really wasn't sure she could find her own brain. It had fallen out sometime between falling for Stiles and losing Allison. And then meeting Calvin just destroyed any piece of sanity and self-assurance she had left. Or so she believed.

The fantasy of the rewarding camping trip that Lydia had in mind was shattered into nothing when she saw Calvin pull up to the curb. With widened eyes, she watches as Stiles offers him a wave, Kira smiling at the newcomer. Scott scowls at the group and moves further to the side of the house, covering his left ear so as to more clearly hear Deaton through the receiver.

What the hell was Calvin doing here? Lydia can feel the palpitations in her chest burning her heart, her fingers grasping the window ledge tightly without realizing. When she asked him if he was able to get a permission slip for the trip during lunch yesterday, he said it wasn't looking good. That was what he _told_ them. He had no reason to be here. Part of Lydia hoped that he was only hear to help load up the car and was just a little bit late, considering that Malia and Kira were putting the last bags in.

She can see Calvin's lips moving as he gets out of his car. He's speaking to Stiles, but she can't hear them clearly enough. Stiles motions forward to help the other boy pull his duffel bag out of the backseat. _Duffel_ _bag_. He was coming.

Lydia's heart performed a leap as she came to the paranoid conclusion that they could be talking about how she slept over Stiles' house earlier in the week. It was only a second later that she dismissed the idea with a dismissive roll of her eyes. Why would Stiles ever reveal that?

She feels the sudden sensation of someone touching her shoulders and gasps with a frightened jump of her body at the unexpected presence of another person. She spins around to find Stiles there, almost as taken aback as she.

"Whoa, sorry, didn't mean to startle you." he furrows his eyebrows at her. "You seem really jumpy," he feels it's necessary to add, "more than usual, I mean." The banshee was never really carefree, but she appeared shaken and pale like she'd just witnessed something damaging.

"Did you invite Calvin!?" She doesn't mean for the angry twinge that automatically slips into her demand.

"What are you talking about? He was given permission to go on the trip at school today, right after lunch. They only care as far as making sure he pays the bill." Although the trip was school sponsored, it wasn't by any means mandatory, and the expenses came out of the pockets of the students and their parents. They had to rely on their own source of transportation, and the only positive things about the school's involvement were the activities they could sign up for.

"I didn't know we were giving him a ride."

"_Well it's kind of a long trip_," he says with an obvious drawl, like she should know this. "Was I not supposed to? I thought I was doing you a favor."

"No, no," Lydia reaches both hands up to push her hair behind her ears. "I'm glad you did, I just wasn't expecting it."

Stiles admires her movement and takes it for something it isn't. He teasingly asks, "Afraid your hair isn't nice enough for him to see you?"

She's offended at the insinuation that her _hair_ was the cause of her turmoil. But he created the lie for her. "Yeah…" she smiles at him sheepishly. "Is it that bad?"

Without properly thinking it over, he lifts a hand toward her and brushes his fingers lightly over the top layer of soft hair he found there. He traces a straight line downward as the tips of his fingers enclose around the sleek strands and run through it soothingly. Lydia's eyes flutter, growing calmer from his proximity, the heat of his body radiating toward hers.

When a soft squeak escapes her lips, Stiles pulls his hand back abruptly, like her hair had burned him. The expression on his face is unreadable, mostly because he isn't sure what is going through his own mind. He inverts his lips and hums lowly. "I'm gonna –…" he lamely gestures to the kitchen with his thumb. "Get the sandwiches in the car." he trips over his own feet in his haste to move away from her. "Yeah, that's… what I'll do."

"_Sandwiches?_" She can't believe that's his excuse, whether it's true or not.

"Yeah, you know," he gestures with his hands with awkwardly shrugging shoulders, "Gotta contribute my part to the journey. Back to the salt mines. All work and no play. The daily grind." he forces his stumbling legs into the kitchen with very little grace, _stopping_ himself before he's gone too far and she truly believes he's nothing but a spazz. As he lets his forehead fall against the refrigerator, Stiles acknowledges the fact that it's already too late.

Lydia stands with her mouth a gape for another second, "_Really?_" she mutters to herself. It was hard to believe that this was the kind of person she ached for on a nightly basis.

As she makes her way to the front yard she makes intense eye contact with Calvin. Scott shows up in her line of sight, approaching before the other boy can.

"I really don't think I can go on this trip, Lydia."

Lydia takes in his sweaty appearance. "Did Deaton tell you to stay?" She's ready to call him up and give him a piece of her mind. The best thing Scott could do right now was leave town for a few days, give himself a break. Unless something supernatural occurred that would require their immediate attention, then they were going on this trip and there was no way in hell she was leaving Scott behind.

"No, he told me to go," he confesses with doubt sparkling in his dark eyes. "I just think… I'm more useful here."

"Is that the _only_ reason?"

Scott hates that knowing glint in her eyes, it's all too familiar. "There's also some Kira stuff I'd like to avoid."

"You two need this trip, Scott. You need to talk or nothing will ever be repaired. And if there's anything you should know how to do, it's talk to people. You're the personable softie, classic McCall. " She smiles at him genuinely. "You're a sweetheart, Scott. Don't ever change."

He's confused by her strong effort to cheer him up, but it really means a lot, especially considering their lack of real communication. "Thanks, Lydia," he sounds just as bemused as he feels, but Lydia says nothing about that.

"You're welcome."

A honk of the minivan's horn draws their attention. Malia has her head popped out the window, whereas Kira was the one to pull the signal. "Get a move on, we're burning sunlight!"

It was decided that Scott would start off driving, his girlfriend in the passenger seat beside him. Malia and Stiles were in the middle row and Lydia and Calvin were in the back. She was hoping they'd be able to snag the middle-seats, as they were not directly attached, but the other couple had gotten there first.

"_Roooooad triiip_!" Kira hooted, reaching over Scott to honk the horn several times in anticipation, her eagerness on full display for the rest of the group. She was practically bouncing in her seat. The car starts up, and within seconds, they're on the road.

Lydia scrutinizes as Stiles waggles his eyebrows at Malia, who rolls her eyes and mouths something to him that the banshee can't read. She eyes the movement of his hand as it briefly reaches over to touch hers.

"We haven't talked much these past few days," Calvin sounds off into her left ear, his cold breath tickling the side of her face.

"I wasn't avoiding you," Lydia defends instantaneously. She's worried he already has that thought in his head, and he wasn't about to turn this pack-trip into a nightmare for her. If pretending to like him was enough to placate him, then she could pull that off.

"I'm not a paranoid man, Lydia. I know it wasn't personal."

She takes mental note of how ironic that claim is.

"I can understand that you needed time with your friends," his hand claps over hers, tightening over her fingers. "Just don't do it again."

"I didn't do anything," she bites her tongue as she recognizes that it was the wrong thing to say. She attempts to backtrack, "I mean, you were with us at lunch every day. It was the only time I saw them, other than class. So I wasn't choosing them over you."

"Choosing?" he whispers back fervently, insulted at the insinuation. "Who said anything about choosing?"

She knew the reason behind her consistent word vomit was the anxiety she was feeling caused by his very presence. If she said the wrong thing, what was he going to do? He claimed to have dissembled a Ferris wheel and she was still uncertain if he had been truthful. She wasn't about to test his limits, though.

"I-I don't know." Lydia admires the way Stiles is making all of their friends laugh with his stupid jokes. Her eyes drop to the floor. It was a window to a world she wasn't in anymore. "I'm just tired."

"Aw, baby," he wraps an arm around her and tugs her toward his chest, leaning himself against the window. "You can sleep during the drive. It's a long one."

Instinctively, she stiffens upon his physical reaction to her lie, her head laid against his shoulder. She wasn't huge on PDA, especially not this early on in knowing someone. Her friends would surely find this strange.

It's only a moment later that Lydia's theory is tested when Kira glances back to the rest of them, pausing from her conversation with Scott. "Oh my god, you guys look so cute!" It gains the attention of the rest of the car, and all heads are on Lydia and Calvin. Kira blushes indirectly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you guys; but, Scott, look how cute." Her lips quirk upwards, a proud smile aimed only at Lydia. The redhead was finally moving on from her depression, and she was involved with this new guy in her life.

Scott's eyes briefly dart to the rearview mirror and he snorts a laugh at Lydia's obvious discomfort.

Lydia pulls away from Calvin using the awkwardness of their peering eyes as an acceptable excuse. She ignores Kira's brightly lit face and the curious way Malia swallows in the scene. The only reaction to their closeness that she was interested in seeing was Stiles, so she attempts to inconspicuously focus her eyes his way, a tilt of shame still etches on her features.

His mouth is clamped shut like he doesn't want to say something, but he won't even look at the pair. He blinks at the floor, then toward Malia as his mouth finally parts and they continue their conversation from before, letting the disruptive moment drop like he hadn't witnessed a thing.

Lydia wishes she could've seen his face when he turned at Kira's attention grabbing shout. Then she pinches herself in disapproval. It's not like it matters. He's with Malia and she's… with Calvin.

"Sorry about that," the dark-haired boy mumbles to her with a grin lifting half his face. "We'll save the cuddling for the tent."

She swallows at the implication that he would be sharing a tent with her.

"I'm sharing with the girls," she forces out. At the way his face falls while his brows raise admonishingly, she clarifies, "That's how it was planned. The girls share, the boys share. There are only two tents."

His lips tighten and he nods slowly, acceptingly. "That makes sense."

Lydia breathes an air of relief at his mellow reaction. It was nearly impossible to correctly predict how he might respond to any given situation. His personality fluctuated in that way.

They take their only rest stop about two hours into the trip, when people start complaining about grumbling stomachs and the need to urinate, particularly the girls. Before they even pulled to a full stop, Kira was launching herself out of the vehicle and running into the gas station's shop to find a bathroom.

"I'm going to grab some snacks, does anyone want anything?" Stiles announces as he stands, pulling open the minivan's automatic doors.

As Malia and Scott give the human their desired junk food, Lydia turns to Calvin. "Do you want something?"

"Maybe some chocolate or something," he shrugs.

"Okay!" Lydia abruptly jolts to her feet. "I'll come with you."

She can feel Calvin's suspicious eyes on her back, but hopes he'll let this one go. When he finally asked her about it later, she rationalized that she would just calmly explain that she wanted to pick out a nice sweet for him. It was a terrible idea, but the only thing Lydia could see was the opportunity to be alone with Stiles for three minutes. This would also be a chance to ask him about his newfound friendship with Calvin. She had a distinct feeling that she would come to regret a lot this weekend.

Stiles' forehead jumps in surprise at the sudden jerky movement of the redheaded firecracker. With a shrug he comments, "Makes my job easier." he gestures toward the door with a tilt of his head, allowing her to exit first with a brisk "Gentle ladies first."

Some pop station is playing quietly in the store, a bad connection to a radio causing it to fizzle out every so often. It's a pretty dirty place, but there isn't much else you can expect from a gas station on the side of a small road off a highway. The bell above the door jingles as they enter.

A man appears from a door of purple hanging beads, clicking together as they sway behind him. He ushers a stuffy greeting and hacks a smoker's cough.

"Lydia," Stiles calls her over to the aisle of candy he's standing at. When she's beside him, he asks her a very important question. "Gummy bear?" He holds the open bag out to her as he tosses a handful in his mouth.

She gasps in disbelief, "You can't just eat it." She snatches the bag from him. "You have to pay for it."

Stiles rolls his eyes at her dramatic behavior. "Lydia, relax. I'm going to pay for it before we leave." He lowers his head to be closer to her standing height as he smugly tells her, "Most grocery stores encourage grazing, youknow." He pops another into his mouth and swallows it down. The squishy texture rubs his throat in an uncomfortable way.

"Stiles, we're not _at_ a grocery store," she declares pointedly.

For the most part standing completely still, his jaw shifts. "Huh. You're right."

"Are you kids stealin'?" The cashier moves from behind the counter, shifting his eyes between the suspicious pair. Young people were always trying to take things without permission. he rubs the back of his hand over his mustache as sniffles away his congestion.

Stiles immediately puts two 10 fingers up to show his empty hands. "It was her." At Lydia's dropped jaw and the man's glower turning on her he adds, "Kidding."

"You're paying for that, yeah?"

"We were just about to," Lydia informs him in the sweetest and most genuine voice she can muster.

He eyes Stiles one final time before he nods at the girl. "Yeah, okay. If you try to walk out of that door before giving me my money I'll call the police."

When he's back by the cash register, Stiles leans in from behind Lydia and whispers against the back of her ear, "God forbid he loses the two dollars a bag of gummy bears costs."

She stifles her laugh.

x-x-x

Despite the quiet first half, the rest of the drive to the campsite is relatively noisy. It took time for them to grow comfortable with one another after the challenging couple of days they had. Allison was returned to her grave but she left behind a void within the group dynamic. It was like losing her all over again.

As Lydia had anticipated, Calvin came to school mystified when he heard about Allison's body being discovered in the woods. Apparently, it was all over not only the local news, but mentioned a couple of times throughout the week on state-broadcasted channels. There was some chatter at school, but the McCall pack was thankfully left alone for the most part, though they could hear the little whispers and see the watching eyes. Lydia could still recall the way Calvin sneered at any one who dared say Allison's name around her. It was strange how he could be so fiercely protective but then turn around and be far worse too her. He was a two-sided coin, that much was true.

After a long period of time spent blasting the radio and contest of who could belt the lyrics out the loudest, the gang spends the rest of the ride laughing about old funny stories of theirs, some when they were younger. All stories involving Allison were of course out of the question.

When they're finally pulling up to the campgrounds, they cheer so unexcitedly that they collectively laugh at their own lack of reactions. The drive there was long and exhausting, and all they wanted to do at this point was eat and sleep. Their arrival was late, and all of their activities were set to happen tomorrow. And then on Sunday, they would have some lunch and get ready to finally leave.

Driving along the wispy dirt road, Kira, now in control of the wheel, searches for their designated camping spot. She can already see that some of their classmates have arrived, attempting to set up their tents and some having given up entirely. Others were luckier, a couple of rich kids having brought their very own trailer and smugly watching the rest of them struggle. It isn't long before Stiles spots the rightful location to set up their tents.

Crickets obnoxiously chirp as they work together to pull the two packaged tents out of the back of the minivan while a few of them start working on a fire. None of them were about to let their drowsiness prevent them from eating and hanging out for a little while.

"I can't see anything, jesus," Kira mutters to herself.

"Can we get a light or something?" Malia huffs, dropping a few metal bars for the tents to the dirt covered ground.

Scott saves the day within minutes, pulling a few different sources of light from the car. "Lanterns all around!" He passes a couple around, spotlights of white illuminating small areas around the site.

"Where are we setting up this fire?" Kira holds a bundle of wooden blocks in her arms, one dropping from her loose grip and missing her toes by an inch. Stiles is quick to collect the wood from her, smirking at her clumsy nature and gesturing toward a spot by the long logs, purposely left there for sitting. There was also a picnic table, but there was nothing camp-like about a table, and they were going to do this in the most classic way Stiles knew it to be. It had been too long since his last voyage with his father.

Lydia isn't sure how to help. Everyone seems so sure of what their own responsibilities are, like there was an unspoken commitment made to perform certain chores. She was left standing by the car, almost jealous of their ability to communicate with each other like a pack should. It was times like these that left her wondering if she was even still in it. Would Scott notice if she wasn't?

Calvin notices the anxious twitch of her leg, the way her lower lip pulsates between her sucking lips. He comes up behind her, placing a hand on her upper-back. This time she doesn't jump at the contact, a result of her weariness. "What's stopping you?" He bobs his head in the direction of her friends.

"I don't know," she scans the way Malia scratches her head, unable to understand the concept of setting everything up. "I know how to set up a tent, it's simple enough." Familiar signals are sent to her brain, the memory of reading about it coming back as easily as she first flipped through the pages. "Unfold. Stake the corners, connect your tent poles. Assemble the frame."

"So why don't you help the poor girl?" He chuckles lowly.

Lydia almost feels like she would be intruding if she did. Watching them move in a sea of rhythm without her was strangely satisfying, in a painful way. It was just something she'd grown to expect, and somewhere in the predictability of it she found some kind of peace. It was consistent. And she can't bring herself to break into something she is not part of, at least right now. "I have to get the bags." She swivels around and climbs into the backseat, grabbing for any straps she can reach.

It's 45 minutes later that they're sitting on the logs around the fire, drinking a small beer and bonding underneath the stars. The bags of candy they at the rest stop are strewn around them, open and being handed around.

Whenever Stiles found himself stuck with another candy wrapper he'd kick some dirt over it and that would be that. Scott shook his head at the action, a small smile playing on his lips.

Kira is studying Calvin, almost guiltily. He is definitely the odd one out, and his eerie silence is only further proving that she was right to assume he was uncomfortable. Judging by the looks Scott and Stiles were giving each other, it was not just Calvin and Kira that knew he stood out. The boys were obviously a little creeped out by his lack of interaction with the rest of them. But he was just a little awkward and shy, and Kira related to that in every sense of the words.

"So Calvin, how are things at your new school?" Kira cuts into the private conversations happening amongst them all, unintentionally making him the center of attention; the complete opposite of what she meant to do. She hopes he can see the apology in her eyes.

"They're good," he shuffles in his seat, scanning the many faces in a circle around the crackling fire. "Uh, they're actually really good. Thanks."

"How do you like your teachers? Do you like Mr. Binski?"

"Yeah, he's a funny guy." He doesn't mind small talk so much when he has to put up with it for Lydia when they're at lunch with her obnoxious friends, but now he was spending two nights with them. It was a different situation entirely, and he was a bit angry with Lydia for making him go on this trip. She'd practically begged him, and if it weren't for those big sad eyes, he would've told her to forget about it.

Lydia's heart skips when she notices that he's intensely glowering at her, sitting only inches away.

When the pause of silence lasts too long, Calvin finally realizes his physical reaction to his angry thoughts and averts his eyes, ignoring the confused scrunching eyebrows of Stiles and Scott. He hated the way they looked at each other whenever they were mocking him. A silent joke that no one else could see. A way to bully him without Lydia knowing. It was _low_ and _**immature**__ and_… Calvin takes a deep breath and unclenches his fists. He's becoming sweaty as the red mist of frustration settles over his shoulders. He has to breathe or he's going to lose it. Placing shaking hands on his legs, Calvin shudders.

"Calvin?" Scott's eyebrows lower in that puppy-dog way that they do, concern and a willingness to listen in the way he carried himself. "Are you alright man?"

His eyes focus intensely on the dirt covered ground for another long seven seconds, all of them waiting for him to react. And then the redness of his face pales, and he calms down. His head turns up to face them all; his eyes bright and friendly like the last few minutes had been erased.

"I'm just tired is all," he smiles broadly. "We should do something fun."

Even the grinding of _Malia_'s mind is reeled in confusion. She wasn't the best at learning societal norms, but she was pretty sure that Calvin had just done something strange. He smelled so infuriated, and then in a shift of the atmosphere he was happy. Nonetheless a light bulb goes off in her head. "We can play a game. I know a game!" She raises an enthusiastic hand, waiting to be called on like in school.

Stiles' friends look to him. With an awkward scratch of the back of his head, he slaps a hand on his knee and calls on her, playing the role of a teacher, "Ah, Malia?"

"There's this game that I love…" her voice drops to a whisper. "It's one that I used to play with my family when I was just a little human."

She finds some minimal comfort in the way Stiles offers her a soft sad smile and reaches out to lightly touch his finger pads against the soft tan surface of the back of her hand.

Whether it's for Malia and her somber note of nostalgia or the sake of fun, everyone agrees to play.

Before even explaining the rules, she and Scott are decided to be team captains took turns choosing team members. Once Kira was (of course) first to join Scott's, Malia picked Stiles and eventually ended up with Calvin on her team after Scott nabbed Lydia.

"So my dad and I would call this game the listeners test," Malia explains, her excitement returning at being able to share this very personal game with her pack.

"Sounds like a social experiment," Stiles jokes.

"No interrupting," Malia growls. He was always telling her that interrupting was against the human rules, and other people never seemed to grasp that concept. It was a two-way street. "Anyways, this game kind of puts your friendship to the test and determines how well we know each other; or at least, the people on the opposite team when it's their turn."

"So why is it called the listeners test?" Stiles queries with a tilt of his head. He wasn't trying to be annoying, but it was kind of funny to watch her cheeks puff up in frustration.

"Because it's about how well you listen to the people around you."

"Wait a minute," Stiles points a finger at the air. "You said it was about friendship."

Malia blinks at him. "Stiles, even I know that friendship is about listening to what other people have to say when it's their turn to talk. Isn't that the human thing to do?"

Lydia raises her eyebrows at her very mature way of thinking. It was almost like she'd surpassed Stiles on her ability to be a person.

"Yeah, I knew that," Stiles backtracks, nodding a head at his friends. "I got your backs."

Kira rolls her eyes and demands, "Let's get this started! Who goes first?"

Lydia decides to be helpful and says, "I can keep score on my phone."

"I guess I'll just not play your little game," Calvin chimes up, irritation at being left out clear in his edgy tone. The chirping of crickets is once again the loudest thing while everyone remains unsure of what to say to that.

"Oh, sorry, Calvin," Kira is first to speak up, her eyes shifting nervously away from her boyfriend. "We didn't realize that you might not know that much about us," her concern turns to a smile as her usual social awkwardness turns to a flow of reassurance. "But now's your chance to learn! You can just guess, it's a group effort anyway."

He reluctantly agrees. "Okay."

Malia is first on the spotlight, and it is up to Scott, Kira and Lydia to correctly guess answers to questions they should already know about her. It would probably be a little easier for Scott and Kira than Lydia, as they'd been going out for weekly lunches with her for the past month without her even knowing. Yes, that was cut was still deeply fresh in her mind.

Stiles has a smug look on his face. "You guys are never gonna get this. Who's Malia's favorite superhero?"

The time limit begins counting down and they have to make three guesses before it's up.

"Uhh, uhh," Kira smacks her hands together. "You told me this one time."

Malia nods at a quick pace. "Uhuh, _and I said_…?"

Scott looks to Lydia, who sends him the most animated shrug she's ever seen, one that said it should be most obvious that she wouldn't know the answer to that. She barely bothered getting to know the girl in the first place, just as Malia hadn't made much of an effort either.

"Wonder woman?" Scott tries hastily.

"No you idiot," Kira smacks his shoulder. "Consult us before you make stupid guesses."

"Ten seconds," Stiles warns.

"Supergirl!" The kitsune calls, bouncing in her seat on the log. "You said she was underrated and amazing for going through a lot of tough shit and still being a perky blonde hottie."

Proud of her only female friend, Malia motions for an air hug, something Kira taught her two weeks into their friendship when she was leaving her house and forgot to say goodbye. She thought it was cute and trendy and had been doing it with only her ever since. It had kind of become their thing.

"One point to team Scolydlia," Stiles sighs.

"What's Malia's favorite food as of last week?" The question was unfair because her favorite food was changing on a bi-weekly basis.

"She really loves chocolate milk right now," Kira answers.

"Chocolate milk is not food. Do you chew chocolate milk? Nope, I don't think so," Stiles flutters his eyelashes at her upon the annoyed twinkle she held in her gaze.

"Uh, burritos?" Kira tries again. "You've been eating a lot of burritos."

Malia rolls her eyes, disinterested. "Burritos were two weeks ago."

Lydia's excellent memory tells her that Malia has been eating nachos every day this week. She knows that because she'd gotten cheese on Lydia's clothing at least 3 out of the 4 times she had it and when she tried to say something about it Stiles hushed her and told her she was still learning.

"Five sec-

"Nachos," Lydia briskly intercedes Stiles' warning of time.

Malia's face scrunches before the surprise takes over her features. "Wow… that's actually right."

"_Two points for Scolydlia_," Stiles points out with mock-attitude, childishly sticks his tongue out at Lydia at the pleased way she marked it into her phone, swiftly swiping her finger across the screen.

The banshee glances up at him and her cheeks grow burning hot, his gaze and joking expression making a nervous giggle bubble close to the surface. She pushes it down, because she is not that type of girl. She was the aggressor. Or at least she used to be.

He admires her swollen red cheeks and his eyes sparkle at the effect he has on her right now, for whatever reason it may be. To make her squirm just a little bit more, he sends her a knowing wink. An opportunity to make Lydia outwardly react to him in a way that made him feel incredibly manly was probably never going to come up again.

Lydia actually has to physically turn her head away, humiliated at her reaction to his stupid teasing, and even more by his ability to see it. The only thing that could make her hate herself more was replaying the image of him winking at her over and over again in her head. Not only was it annoying and rude and so very _him,_ but really damn cute.

Stiles laughs to himself.

When it's finally Lydia's turn, Stiles is thrilled about getting a chance to prove his massive amounts of pointless Lydia information. The only bad thing about this game was that they weren't going to ask the important stuff, like the way her dimples curved when she smiled or how she secretly loved Star Wars when he first made her watch it. It was something she would only share with him, and he still remembered the way she physically applauded George Lucas' creativity when the end credits came and babbled about how the movie must've completely revolutionized special effects in its time, how she wished she could've been alive to see it in theatres and watch the magic unfold. He remembered wanting to kiss her so badly, but pressing his own lips together instead, just until he was sure he could resist the urge. All the while she, oblivious to his inner struggle, continued her little speech about how Star Wars represented the cyclical clash that was good versus evil.

Stiles swallowed hard at the lump of emotion forming in his throat, simply from bring back an old memory.

"First question," Scott studied the opposing team; Malia, Stiles and Calvin. He was very aware of the fact that his own team was probably going to be winning this game. "What kind of shampoo does Lydia use?"

"How the heck are we supposed to know that?" Malia groans, crossing her arms. It was obvious to her that they were just giving them more difficult questions because they were afraid of losing.

"Suave strawberry," Stiles and Calvin answer in complete unison.

As they turn, both equally stunned by the other's answer, they warily glimpse at each other.

Lydia's head slowly lifts, casting haunting eyes at Calvin. It was strange though not impossible for Stiles to know that about her. It could have come up in conversation at some point; he could have seen it in her bathroom. The brighter eyed participant in this little competition had never been to her house, not even once.

Stiles is just as taken aback. "How do _you_ know?" He supposes that it's likely Calvin's seen her shampoo bottle before. It's not even that big of a deal, yet somehow, it still bothers him. Every time Calvin opens his mouth, he says something with an underlying double meaning, and Stiles can't help but correlate that to every statement he now made. Stiles wanted to be this guy's friend, but his entire personality came with a blaring warning sign that Stiles doesn't understand; it's like he's missing several pieces of a very large and complicated puzzle.

"I'm her boyfriend." His tone indicates that this is something he should already know, though the flicker of surprise over the faces lighting the dark woods were disproving that.

"Next question," Kira blurts out, desperate to stop any sort of drama from forming. The suspicious way Calvin's eyes raked over Stiles' face was unsettling. No one had anything to hide, but everyone had a hard time trusting. That was when she remembered Allison's purple sweater, otherwise known as Scott's best kept secret. What did she know about what they could be hiding if she didn't know her own boyfriend's habits? Absolutely nothing. "Scott."

The sound of his name on Kira's lips takes him out of his distracted gaze. He snaps out of it quickly, spotting the worried wrinkle of Kira's chin and continuing the swing of things. "Right," he clears his throat to draw the attention of the remainder of the group.

Lydia pushes all concerns about Calvin being in her room to the farthest corner of her mind, because she can't think about that right now.

"What stuffed animal does Lydia think she secretly sleeps with sometimes?"

"It _was_ a secret until you just opened your mouth," Lydia growls, tightening her arms around her body as the wind picks up.

"Actually we all knew that," Malia points out.

"Yeah, and it's Mr. Hijinks," Stiles winks at Lydia from across the fire. He was the only one who knew its name.

"It's a stuffed pig, right?"

Calvin's question takes Lydia off guard and she almost forgets to respond as her shock overwhelms her. An unsettling knot forms in the middle of her stomach as she tries to calmly tell herself that someone probably told him that. A hint of a smile makes its way onto her face as she meekly nods her head. "Yeah," she whispers, unintentionally husky.

Something akin to recognition flares in Calvin's eyes, and Lydia assumes that he realizes he slipped up on knowing such personal information, because he has a sudden shakiness about him. His leg is restless and his lips are twitching. "I think I'm gonna head off to bed," he declares, shooting up to his feet as soon as the words are out.

"In the middle of the game?" Malia's lower lip juts out as she decides that she doesn't like this new guy. She inwardly hopes that he isn't going to be joining their pack anytime soon, but keeps that thought to herself. She'll tell Stiles later, and he'll reassure her that there was no way this boy with an overemotional "cater to me" persona was going to be hanging out with them on a regular basis. He was already stealing French fries from her like they were some kind of buddies. Just because he helped her with the menu at the fair.

"He's probably right," Kira bashfully agrees. She doesn't want this trip to take a turn for the worse before it goes right, and she's eager to get away from Scott. He's giving off a "don't talk to me" vibe that she wants no part of. It still isn't the right time to bring up his special drawer for Allison's sweater, and the air is still awkward between them. The stare Scott is now giving her is disbelieving, but his arm drops to his knee in resignation.

"Fine," he puts it simply. "We can pick this up tomorrow."

"What's planned?" Malia is ready to get a taste of wilderness. There was something that felt almost home-like about being surrounded by the smell of pine needle and wildlife.

"During the day it's kind of whatever we want, but at night we're drinking at the lake and then kayaking."

"Drunk kayaking?" Kira's nose wrinkles. "Is that a good idea?"

"We'll sober up first," he answers without looking at her. Her heart jumps in paranoia at what that could imply.

Within the next few minutes everyone is unpacking their things and setting up their blankets in the tents, taking last minute bathroom breaks, changing their clothes and brushing their teeth. The walk to the public restrooms was only a couple of minutes, but some didn't even bother with the trip.

Lydia was sitting the girls' tent by herself, a hefty suitcase in front of her. She isn't sure what she's going to wear, as she hadn't exactly planned ahead with what type of pajamas she was going to need. She hadn't considered the fact that in the woods at night she couldn't be curled up in the blankets in lingerie. Unzipping the suitcase makes a low whirring noise in the quiet air of the tent, and she begins shuffling through the clothing she brought with her. She huffs in frustration. She was so unorganized and messy these past few weeks.

A familiar pair of hands appear inside of the tent as they pull the opening wider to fit their large body inside. A hunched over Stiles climbs in and moves to his knees beside her, raising a pair of well-groomed eyebrows at her in greeting.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Lydia cautiously tucks a curl behind her ear, not ending her search as her hands dive into the mix of cotton and cashmere.

"I'm looking for Malia."

The way his eyes are studying hers is setting her on edge. Her own eyes flicker around the tiny tent and then she plainly says, "She's not here." There was something wrong with him if he couldn't tell.

Stiles rolls his eyes at the careful way she regards him as if he's lost his mind. "Yeah, I can see that," he drawls. "I'm going to wait here for her," his eyes narrow. "I mean, if that's okay with you…" he gestures with a hand expectantly, awaiting either a confirmation to stay or to be kicked out.

"Sure, what do I care?" She shrugs flippantly.

Then his forehead creases and a moment of confusion is replaced by a perplexed expression, his ears jumping as recognition lightens his honey eyes.

"…What?" Lydia's hands still in her suitcase.

Stiles places a finger to his lips before using that same finger to point uncertainly at something in her bag. "Isn't that my shirt?"

She knows what shirt it is before she even looks. It's the one he let her wear when she slept over his house earlier in the week. Packing it with her had been a complete accident, but her subconscious may have been trying to tell her something.

"I don't know," she squeaks. No, she is a more confident person than this. So she sucks down a breath of cold air and lifts her chin at him bravely. "Does it look like your shirt?"

He moves forward to take it out of her bag, but stops mid-way. Once her eyes roll and she gestures toward it in a way that granted permission, he finally picks it up, running his thumbs over the material.

"Yep, definitely mine." His eyes flick toward her thoughtfully. "Why did you bring it?"

"So that I could give it back to you, why else?" She bites down on the inside of her cheeks and hopes he can't detect her lie.

The corners of his lips quirk upwards. "_Liar_," he teases jubilantly, poking her knee playfully.

"Shut up," she pulls her leg away, ice lining underneath her voice.

Stiles' mouth drops. "Whoa, I'm only kidding around."

"You're not funny." Her shoulders sag. "I need to find pajamas and go to sleep maybe you can just wait for Malia _outside_ of the tent." Her tongue presses against the roof of her mouth to prevent from taking it back and asking him to stay.

"You can wear it if you want," Stiles nods at the shirt folded and placed on the ground between them.

"Take it with you," she tosses the thing at his chest and he catches it in his hand before it drops into his lap.

His lips set in a thin line and his grip on the shirt tightens. It was abuse he'd usually never show to his favorite shirt, but the times Lydia upset him were special circumstances.

Stiles kicks the dirt as he exits the tent, grumbling to himself. She's lucky he even let her wear it in the first place, she's even more lucky that he'd offer it to her again. He wouldn't even let Scott wear the stupid thing any time he needed to borrow clothes in the past. It seemed unimportant and minor, but it was one of the last things his mom bought him and the fact that it was unbelievably soft certainly helped.

Within fifteen minutes, Lydia's misery is interrupted by Malia's entrance. She mutters to her that Stiles had been looking for her.

"He already found me, thanks," Malia answers as she undresses. "Why are you still in your jacket?"

"I don't have anything to sleep in," Lydia tells her, not expecting any sympathy.

"I guess you can borrow one of Stiles' shirts," Malia reluctantly suggests, pulling two shirts out of her duffel bag that were too large to be her own.

Lydia tried not to let the fact that Malia kept some of Stiles' shirts get to her. The one thing she couldn't stop was the way her eyes rolled. Of fucking course she would end up in Stiles' clothing anyway. It always came back to him.

"You can have the black one, it's really rough and my skin is too soft for that."

While accepting the shirt, Lydia wonders whether Malia realizes she just indirectly insulted her and removes her own clothing.

"Stiles has the warmest clothes," the werecoyote continues to obliviously torture the strawberry haired banshee, speaking about the human boy as if he were already her boyfriend. "Every time I sleep over he lets me wear them."

Lydia swallows. When she was staying at Stiles' house she had brought up the idea that Malia had slept in Stiles' bed, but he didn't answer one way or the other. Now she was confirming the intrusive images that were undoubtedly going to plague her thoughts and keep her awake all night, that, along with other things…

"Lydia," Malia gasps audibly, dark eyes widening.

Lydia blinks at the girl, pulled out of her own thoughts by the girls surprising reaction to seeing her in her underwear. Was Malia about to insult her again? What was wrong now, were her breasts uneven; did she have some kind of imperfection that Malia was about to claim was fantastic about herself? She was proving to be good at that thus far.

"What happened to your legs?"

Lydia looks down, and sure enough, the spots that were once scratches on her thigh are now purple and bruised in the shape of someone's fingers that had been too harshly pressed against delicate skin. She hadn't noticed that it had begun to bruise and wondered when it started. It seemed a bit late to just finally be showing.

"I…" she gives Malia a once over. "That's none of your business, Malia," she informs bluntly, ignoring the pang of guilt as she pulls the black shirt over her head, Stiles' smell clinging to her instantly. It almost physically hurts.

Malia's eyes squint at her, but she bobs her head. "You're right," she mumbles, surrounding herself with pillows as she moves herself into a comfortable position on the floor and flicks out her lantern.

Lydia is thankful that Kira shows up second later, though she's just as unhappy as Lydia. She doesn't even say anything to either of the girls as she climbs into bed without even changing out of her jeans. It isn't until Malia's snoring quietly that Lydia scoots her pillow closer to Kira's and whispers,

"Is everything alright?"

Kira can hear the other girl's concern from behind her, but she closes her eyes lightly and feigns sleep.

Lydia lifts her head to admire Kira's face, but instead sighs when she sees she's already dead weight, much like Malia. Only Kira is faking it and Lydia's not stupid. But she isn't going to force her into something she doesn't want to talk about. She drops her head back down to the pillow and crosses off another person on the mental list of people that have closed themselves off from the rest of the world.


	9. Lost

A/N: I know I said I was probably not going to update, but my sister and her family are all really sick and I caught whatever they have, so we've been pretty much just relaxing at the house. It's given my sister and I a lot of time to write and play video games!

The response to this story has been so great and every time my email lights up with another review I do a little jig. Thank you so much!

* * *

**_Lost_**

_There's no angels here, just a sun to light the way_

_To places where my friends turn to strangers_

_Mmm, My lover, on a long long empty road_

_Mmm, Sweet lover,_

_I got lost_

- VAST

Eight

It was the rustling of leaves outside and the slow unzipping of the tent that roused Lydia back to the conscious realm of awareness. She groaned lightly at the disturbance and clicked on the screen of her cell phone to check what time it was.

Half past 4 A.M?

She lifts her head to assure that both girls are still in the tent and one wasn't simply returning from a bathroom break. They were fast asleep, Malia snoring lowly while Kira tossed and turned in a fit, like she was having a hard time resting comfortably on the ground. It was likely that there were more than a few sticks poking her in the back. The pain in the crook of Lydia's shoulder was evidence that the kitsune wasn't the only one.

As the late night intruder finally makes his presence known, he carefully climbs inside as to not wake the dozing supernaturals.

Lydia bolts upward, prepared to fend off a curious pervert or maybe even a grizzly bear with motor skills decent enough to unzip a tent. She is, however, not prepared to deal with the person that was crouched over in front of her.

"Oh, jesus!" Stiles staggers back and nearly falls, clutching his chest with a pained expression. "You scared the shit out of me," he hisses.

"You?" she quips, "I scared you? I thought someone was breaking in."

"Yeah, me!" He whisper-shouts, poking himself hard in the chest and still reeling from the fright she gave him.

The banshee makes an animal-like sound as she growls at him, her lips lifted in a snarl. Stiles had no right to be annoyed with her when he was the one suspiciously sneaking into their tent before the sun had even risen.

"What are you even doing here?" Lydia asks quietly, perturbed that he would interrupt her slumber, one of the few times she had actually been successful in falling asleep within a reasonable amount of time.

"I…" his eyes trail toward Malia.

Lydia is sour and unable to hide it, sucking the inside of her cheeks into her mouth and pursing her lips. "Hm," she tilts her head at him. "You woke me up so you could have a late night tussle in the woods with your -" she gestures wildly with her hands, unable to find the term but still visibly disgusted by it.

"...My friend." he finishes when she doesn't.

"Yeah," she scoffs. "You're real friends with the way you two suck face like a couple of necking…" she narrows her eyes. "Neckers!" Lydia isn't sure how she's managing to keep her voice hushed, but she's glad the other girls haven't woken up yet. The situation would probably look somewhat odd from their perspective, and even when Stiles was pissing her off, she still somehow wanted their alone time to last as long as possible. It was strange, feeling this way. It was like no other feeling. She remembered how she used to fight with Jackson so often, and how being around him set her on edge, especially toward the end of their relationship. He was an aggressive guy and he liked to feel like he was in control, similar to Calvin in a couple of disturbing ways. Stiles was nothing like that. He was her equal.

"Close friends," Stiles defends, gaze lingering on Malia. He licks his dry lips and returns to look at Lydia. His heart jumps at the sight of her, pouty pink lips in their natural shade, a more common sight these days. Her hair is tossed and frizzy, elongated as it runs a few inches past her bosom.

Lydia can see that he's sizing her up and almost appreciates it, but she's currently too annoyed by his existence to enjoy it.

His eyes grow large for a split second before returning to their normal size, biting on his lip to prevent a smirk from forming. It doesn't help.

She opens her mouth to ask him why he's looking at her like that, but she catches his line of sight, her own eyes lowering to her clothing. Shit. She's still wearing the shirt Malia lended her. His shirt.

"Uhhh," he starts off, just to be shushed by Lydia.

"Don't. Say. Anything." Humiliation courses through her veins and heats her face.

"Okay," Stiles nods slowly, though the shot of pleasure that ran through him at seeing her in nothing but one of his shirts again was something to be considered later. In the past couple of weeks he'd given Malia a few of his sweaters and t-shirts after accidentally doing it the first time. When he finally got to see her in one and saw how happy it made her to feel connected to him in that way, he started giving her more, just for the content smile she would offer him when he handed them over. He was well aware that the black shirt Lydia was wearing was one of those gifts to Malia, probably the most recent one. He remembered that she complained about its rough texture. "Can I ask why?"

Lydia huffs at his incessant need for answers but complies, "I had nothing to wear so Malia let me use this." her eyes sharpen. "Is that a problem?"

"No…" Stiles blinks at her. "I told you you could wear my shirt last night but you threw it at me and made me leave." There's a hint of aggression there, but it vanishes as his tone plunges in volume "But you should keep it, it looks good on you."

"It was only a couple of hours ago you can't call it 'last night' when you're popping in here in the wee hours of the morning. Have you no manners?"

"You were supposed -" Kira begins to stir, so he stops intermittently then lowers his voice " - Supposed to be sleeping," he shoots back.

"And I was until you showed up," the exhausted young woman retorts. She's tense now, her arms crossed over her bust in a dominant stance. At the unhappy twitch of his lips, she sighs. "Look, just grab your girlfriend or your gal pal or whatever the hell she is to you and be on your way." She pulls the blanket back over her form, dropping her head back to the pillow with a forceful clunk. She's determined not to give into her heart's desires, because they're far more illogical than the thoughts in her brain, though sometimes the they get clouded and mixed and hard to differentiate.

Stiles wants to say something more, Lydia can tell by the way he pauses, running a hand along his smooth chin as an exasperated breath of air leaves his moistened lips. Eventually, he gives up on his rambling thoughts and instead climbs out of the tent, not even bothering to haul Malia out with him. She continues to sleep soundly just a few feet away from Lydia. The fact that he didn't bring the werecoyote with him almost hurts her more than if he had.

x-x-x

When Lydia wakes up for a second time, it isn't Stiles' fault. The sun has risen now and there is laughter somewhere in the distance, but she can't tell who it is or if it's someone in the pack. After changing into a comfortable dress and fixing up a light amount of makeup, she forces sore legs out of the tent. Her entire body aches from the uncomfortable way she slept and she could swear the imprints of small pebbles and rocks were leaving her back spotted like a dalmation.

She feels arms weave around her and pull her against a firm chest. Yelping in surprise, Lydia spins around in the embrace to see Calvin and his big smile. She swallows hard and forces a matching expression.

"You're finally up," he comments sweetly, leaning in to kiss her.

Panic burbles up inside of her and Lydia nearly jumps out of her skin trying to get away, falling backwards onto her bottom and landing in a pile of crunchy leaves and dirt. He wasn't going to be pleased with her, and she was almost afraid to look up at his face.

"I… have to take a shower."

His gaze is heavy on her. "You're already dressed," Calvin says frankly, extending a hand downward to help her up. She reluctantly accepts it, allowing him to tug her back to her feet. "And if hygiene is what you're worried about, planting yourself onto the dirt is probably not a good idea." He doesn't believe her, and it's evident in the way he regards her with a clenched jaw, the extraocular muscles of his eyes tightening sternly.

"Well I didn't want to walk to the bathroom in my underwear," she declares righteously, brushing at the skirt of her dress to clean it off, an excuse to keep her shaking hands busy.

"Mmm," She can't tell if his humming is in agreement or suspicion. "I guess I'll see you after your shower then," his voice is strained, like he's holding back. "I'll be awkwardly hanging out with your friends in the meantime."

Lydia can't hold her tongue. "Why do you say it like that?"

He chortles rudely, "It's not that hard to see, Lydia. They're not very good friends, if they were, they wouldn't be so oblivious to how hard it's been for you since you lost your friend, especially since some freak took her out of her grave and left her on a tree stump in the goddamn woods."

Her mouth clamps shut as he reaches out to run cold fingers over her jaw, leaving behind a trail of chills that left her nerves rattling, aching to be as far away from him as physically possible. Her body was reacting the same as her thoughts, her heart irregular and her chest twisting painfully. She would think it were a heart attack had she not known the symptoms of one.

"Lydia Martin at a loss for words?" his tongue flicks out, caught between his teeth as he critically inspects her, his eyes judgmental as they scope her up and down. "I think that's the first time you've had nothing to say. Is it because you know I'm right?"

"You're not right," she whispers, yet her voice remains firm and steady as her eyes burn into his. As the days wore on, his claims to hurt the people she loved grew more disbelieving. If she wanted to walk away from this she could; it would be so easy. If it weren't for that tiny spark of fear that he was telling the truth, she would have left after the first time he showed his true colors.

"What?" he's taken aback by her defensive posture and words, his brows raised high like they were carrying the weight of a feather. "What did you say?"

Her eyes scan the campsite, searching for a face. He won't try to frighten her if there is someone present. But they're seemingly alone.

She ignores the cramp in her chest as her heart increases its pace, slamming against her ribcage at the confrontation she was faced with. "I came here to get my mind off of… " she shifts her weight from one foot to the other as she forces herself to finish what she started "Allison… and have a good time with my friends. You standing here and trying to scare me is not only superfluous but also completely absurd that you think I'd keep taking this from you."

Calvin's hand wraps around her upper-arm faster than she can blink, yanking her closer to him with fire blazing intensely in his eyes and only spreading throughout his body as he tightens his hard grip, a snarl on his lips. His voice declines warningly as he roughly starts up, "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to, little girl?"

"Let me go," she mutters through a clenched jaw and gritting teeth, her gaze steady and unwavering. She refuses to be weak. She is not a victim. Her free hand flies up to press a flat palm against his chest in a frail attempt to thrust him back, or at the very least create some distance between them.

"Shut up, you wretched little witch." Calvin's other hand smacks away the feminine one on his chest, encircling the dainty wrist he found there and twisting it back, farther and farther until Lydia cries out. Then he stops. "I know what you're doing, you don't think I know? Hm?" his nostrils flare dangerously. "You don't think I see how your friends look at me, how they laugh to each other about what an idiot I am behind my back?"

"They don't do that, now let me go!"

"I know you're part of it, and it's going to stop. You and they are going to stop or I'm going to stick a very sharp knife in one of their bellies, I'm going to hear them squeal like a pig and then when I've had my fun, I'll end his or her life. Got it?"

Lydia didn't even know tears were streaming down her cheeks, not until they dropped from the edge of her chin and splattered onto the neckline of her dress, leaving her neck feeling wet and her vision blurry, the sight of Calvin and his fury askew. "Okay... okay, just stop," she cries, desperately trying to tug herself away from his harsh grip. When he finally releases her, it's so sudden that Lydia stumbles back flailing, landing on her ass as she had before. But this time he leaves her there to soak in her despair.

Lydia's a sobbing wreck as she makes the five minute walk to the bathroom, though it takes her almost ten in her desolate state, her arms protectively wrapped around herself in a barrier of safety. It does nothing to make her feel safer, she'll never feel safe ever again. She hasn't in so long. She wants Stiles; she wants Scott. God, she wants Allison. She wants her inner circle of friends to be united and close again, her second family. No. Her first family, her only real family. Even though her mother loved her, she was almost never home, and she hadn't seen her father in over a month. It was something she'd expected from the start of the divorce, but never like this.

She's managed to brush away any remaining evidence of her tears, or at least the runniness that was her face. She's still a combination of pink and red and flushed all over, but she's worse for wear inside than what she's displaying on her exterior. Her heart stings more than her veiny red eyes if that were even possible and where her cheeks are blush pink and colored on the outside, they're chewed and sore in her mouth.

She moves past the restrooms and to the building especially for showers, able to hear the sound of running water before she even enters. A cloud of steam hits the banshee as she walks through the tiled opening, running her nails along the walls as she makes her way inside, a painful ceasing stuck in her chest. She could only hope it wasn't a permanent scar, one of the many new ones that had formed since the death of her best friend. If she takes a shower, she'll calm down.

Her mother used to tell her that every time she has a particularly rough day, she should either take a shower or go to sleep. Things were always brighter the next day. Unfortunately, her morning had just begun, and it had only been an hour since she woke up.

Upon reaching the room of shower stalls, she finds that every single one is taken. Of course it is. Thankfully, there were two. When she finally reaches the second, she smacks right into a hard and very bare chest, slamming so abruptly into them that she almost topples onto the ground for the third time that day. Two large hands reach out to her shoulders and steady her.

Once the mist of steam clears, she's able to put a face to the helpful gesture.

"Lydia?"

It's Stiles. Why wouldn't it be Stiles? That's when she realizes that it's Stiles and he's in a towel. But it doesn't even matter, and she can't even appreciate the sight, because the moment she sees that it's him, she bursts into a fit of tears. Humiliation takes hold and she covers her eyes with her hands.

"Whoa whoa whoa," he slightly bends his knees to get a closer look at her face, tilting her head up toward his and pulling her hands back to reveal a sniffling strawberry haired banshee. His hands are firm yet gentle where they cradle her jaw, a strange but vast and welcome difference from Calvin's unkind touch. "Hey, what's the matter?"

Her lower lip wobbles as she tries to stop the onslaught of tears breaking to the surface, her eyes anywhere but on him as she takes a quick breath of air. "Calvin and I had an argument." It wasn't too far from the truth, and judging by how his eyes lighten in cognizance, he's completely fallen for it.

A trickle of water runs over Stiles shoulder and he removes his hands from her face to tighten the terry cloth around his waist as he's hit by a breeze of cold air, ringlets of hair dripping liquid onto the tile below his bare feet that were pressed against the chilled floor. His icy hands run soothingly up and down her arms, his lips lowered in a pout. "What was it about?" The sound of running shower water seeds through his question, having to heighten the volume of his tone just to be heard.

With a brisk shake of her head her eyes lower to his chest just to avoid his honey speckled admiration, sweetly laced with solicitude. She watches the muscles of his chest involuntarily flex at her gawking.

Stiles clears his throat to recapture her attention, his adam's apple bobbing as he nervously swallows at their proximity and his lack of any type of clothing at all. The veins at the surface of the back of his hands outline as he clutches onto the material covering his more intimate areas. Not that Lydia Martin checking him out wasn't intimate. It might even be something worth commenting on if she wasn't crying and he wasn't inwardly freaking out.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" He finally asks. "I just need to put some clothes on, and then we can go wherever you want."

She intently stares at him, saying nothing. When his eyebrows finally knit together and he worriedly says her name, Lydia feels inclined to answer. "I want to take a shower," she says slowly, like her head is somewhere else.

"Well then you're in the right place?" His voice raises higher at the end, like he's asking instead of telling. He's still tied up in knots, uneasy about leaving Lydia here despite her telling him that it was what she wanted. She wasn't in a right state of mind, that much was clear to him. It was as if she was in some kind of daze, like she hadn't really woken up yet. Had the argument affected her that much?

Stiles feels the beginning stirrings of jealousy swirling low in his stomach and immediately hates himself for it. He can't feel that way, not when she's this upset and especially not when he has no right to feel that way about someone he isn't even involved with.

When she fails to respond once again, Stiles bows his head at her. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Lydia blinks at him. She didn't remember ever telling him that she was okay, but it wasn't like she'd be honest about it if he had. "I just need to clear my head under some hot water, that's all." She gives him a tight-lipped smile.

Stiles doesn't want to leave her in this condition, but there isn't much he can do right now. He's naked and cold and she wants to be alone, so he respects that and grabs his pile of clothing sloppily folded in the corner and offers one longing stare at her back before he leaves her to her inner thoughts.

x-x-x

It isn't until they're preparing lunch by the fire that Lydia returns to the campsite, and the unsettling nausea collects in a tight knot in the pit of her belly before she even sees them. Scott rushes at her in a brush of wind.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I was taking a shower," she grunts with crossed arms. Lydia peers behind him to see that the rest of the group is staring at her, along with Calvin, who is seated by himself with his mouth stilled on a chicken kabob from the moment he saw her.

"For three hours?"

Lydia grits her teeth together in aggravation, her chin wrinkling as she inverts her lips. "I got a little lost, alright?" Her excuse was flimsy at best, but thinking on her feet when she was already having a difficult day was not something she was great at. She used to be, but not anymore. It was like she was getting weaker and weaker, like she was drowning and couldn't find the surface. She really was lost, but not in the the thick of the woods. In her own enigmatic mind.

"You could've called me." Scott indicates with scrutiny that he does not find her alibi credible. After a hefty sigh and wafting fingers through his thick head of dark hair his tense body softens, only allayed that Lydia was back; safe and sound. "It doesn't even matter.. Are you hungry?"

She's pleased that he doesn't further weigh her down with questions, because she's not in the mood to fight him on it. The thought of eating only makes her feel sicker. "No, I'm fine."

Scott's eyebrows furrow uneasily. "Are you sure? We only munched for breakfast and you kind of missed that, too."

"I'm not hungry," she insists sharply, only allowing herself to feel culpable when he faintly accepts her echo and returns to his spot on the log beside Kira. Shakily approaching her friends, she collapses onto the spot beside Stiles and chooses to overlook the curious glances, along with the whispering of Malia asking Stiles why she wasn't sitting with Calvin and Stiles quickly hushing her.

Said boy shifts to his left, asking Lydia a silent question with his eyes to confirm that she's alright. Her lips quirk up in a forced smile that he's obliged to return, though his is as temporary and fake as hers. Lydia speculates on whether or not he can distinguish the difference between her strained happiness and the authentic kind. She catches a piercing glint in the glimpse at her he takes, something about it almost knowledgable.

"Drinking by the lake tonight?" Kira breaks the blanket of uncomfortable silence, feeling awkward and instantly regretting her decision to speak until someone else finally does. This weekend was supposed to be so different. She and Scott were going to swim with their legs tangled, their lips brushing and their cheeks flushed with desire. They were going to enjoy each other's company and discover each other's bodies, more than they already had, anyway. Now things were forced and blundering, and she could plainly see that it wasn't just between her and Scott. Even Lydia and Calvin weren't sitting together, and their passion had been lit on fire this past week. What was up with that?  
"Yeah," Scott rubbed a hand over his nose, sensing the tense atmosphere and feeling his body grow rigid. "It'll be fun." He almost snorts at his own lie. Yeah. Fun.

"Wow, what's up with everyone?" Malia is direct and to the point, and the others are almost thankful because someone had to say it. But still, it probably would have been better if she hadn't.

By the time night rolls around and a dark hue settles over the foggy sky, their negative spirit has settled down a bit and they are able to savor the beauty of their environment, mossy shades of dark olive and an impenetrable thicket of overgrown tints of green overhanging them like beanstalks.

Lydia is touched by Stiles' kindhearted decision to stay close to her side all day, even going as far as walking adjacent to her on their journey through the woods and to the lake. He didn't stray, not even for a minute. He believes she and Calvin are fighting and doesn't want her to feel uncomfortable, standing on her lonesome with nothing but the emerald eyed boy's bitter eyes focused on her. Every time he notices the sharp way Calvin regards her, Stiles steps between them, and she thinks that's the sweetest thing anyone has done for her. Stiles being that protective over what he thought to be a miniscule disagreement makes her contemplate over how he'd react if he knew just how far Calvin had gone.

There's a comfort in his presence and it only further intensifies when his arm loosely wraps around her shoulders to guide her through a particularly steep slope, the tips of his fingers grazing over the flesh of her arm and unconsciously tracing lightly. Lydia appreciates the fuzzy feelings it gives her until she recognizes the familiarity of furious gawping eyes combing over their forms. One peek, and she sees the responsible parties are Calvin and Malia. Not so surprising. What was surprising, was that Stiles had torn himself away from the werecoyote so completely, only bothering with her enough to tell her to be careful because the ridge was steep, whereas he was actually leading Lydia over it.

Malia took immediate notice of this, but she wasn't going to bring it up right now in front of everyone, not like she usually did. She wanted to get Stiles alone and she wanted to rip off his earlobes. In the figurative sense, of course. But she certainly did plan on giving him a very large piece of her mind.

When they reach the reservoir, the group collectively runs toward the water. Scott drops the bag of alcohol along the side and removes his clothing. Kira is ripping off her top following Scott, quick to jump into the pit of water without checking the temperature. She wouldn't usually be so brave as to be one of the first to strip down to her undergarments, but her boyfriend made her feel more confident than she'd ever been, even when they weren't on the best terms. She performed a cannonball, launching herself with such ferocity that she soaks her entire being in the ice cold water.

Malia takes this opportunity to grab Stiles and pull him toward the privacy of the trees, leaving Lydia unguarded and giving Calvin his chance to step in.

Lydia's eyes flick nervously toward Stiles, who sends her one last glance before allowing his girlfriend pull his arm nearly out of its socket in her haste to lead him away and berate him.

The banshee could hear snippets of their hushed argument; she could hear Kira laughing as Scott pops open a bottle of alcoholic irish cream; she could hear that none of them were paying attention to her or Calvin and what he might say to her next. It wasn't like she expected them to.

Calvin's tongue is held between his lips, his face a color of fuming red. "I can not believe the crap you just pulled," he clucks his tongue, his voice thick and dripping with anger he was holding back.

"Once again Calvin, I didn't do anything, it's all in your head."

"So I'm crazy now? I'm hearing voices?" Calvin laughs, but finds nothing funny. " - which is pretty weird, considering the shit I hear about you in the halls. They call you schizo-girl behind your back, did you know that? Do you have any idea how many times I've defended you against those jockstraps and preppy school boys?" He points a determined finger at her, but is quick to lower it when he realizes that her friends could glimpse at them at any given moment and see their heated discussion.

"I've never needed you to defend me," Lydia answers hotly. "I don't care what they think."

"What about what I think?" Calvin asks poignantly. "We get in one tiny fight and you run off for three fucking hours? That's the most immature shit in the world, Lydia." he purposefully lowers his voice to avoid his fury from leaking through and heightening its volume. "And when you come back you hang on Stiles like some pathetic school girl with a crush on her teacher."

The disbelief Lydia feels vibrates through her until she's physically quaking. "One… tiny fight? You think that grabbing my arms and screaming at me is normal? That it's okay?"

His teeth grit together and the sound makes her wince. "Don't be dramatic Lydia, it was nothing." Calvin shamelessly waggles his head at her like he's disappointed and she recoils at his nonchalance.

"Malia!" They both turn at Stiles' sharp exclamation and find that the girl is bounding toward them angrily, her fists clenched and her eyes almost glowing with indignation. She comes to an abrupt stop in front of them, focusing on Calvin.

"Calvin," she stresses. "Would you like to take a walk?" As Stiles jogs up, she turns a high-pointed

chin and a valiant pair of eyes to him. "It's too dishonest here."

"Malia," Stiles' voice lowers warningly, "I wasn't lying, there's nothing going on between Lydia and I."

The banshee in question's heart flutters like a newborn butterfly, sudden and unexpected. That had been what Malia was angrily demanding of him and she wasn't happy with his answer.

His eyes are apologetic as he brings the overwhelmed girl with hair that smelled of strawberries into the middle of the situation. "Right, Lydia?" he urges, his hand rubbing over the back of his neck anxiously.

"I-" it's all she gets out before Calvin is interrupting.

"A walk is exactly what I need right now," he interjects, finding himself willing to form a temporary alliance with Stiles' usually oblivious fuck buddy. He's pleased with her reaction, eyes turning momentarily bright as she nods thankfully at him.

"Malia…" Stiles begins, prepared to tug her away as she had him just minutes prior. She was completely humiliating him for almost no reason. He was only trying to be a good friend and support Lydia through what was a difficult first-couples spat and maybe even get her to open up to him about it, but he couldn't do that without the werecoyote becoming possessive and jealous. It seemed that Calvin fared no better, judging by the dirty looks he found himself on the receiving end of during their hike to the lake and only further proven by how he readily agreed with Malia. Upon hearing his decision to accompany Malia on her "walk" he shoots him an eye as equally evil as what he'd accepted with no complaints earlier.

They're sauntering through the trees within seconds, Malia unwilling to hear anymore of what Stiles has to say.

"Let them go," Lydia tells him. If she believed that Calvin would hurt Malia, she would have stopped them, but the way his eyes sparkled when she approached suggested that he had found an ally, someone to share his unfair anger at Lydia and Stiles with. As far as Lydia was concerned, this was an opportunity to be away from Calvin for just a little while, to breathe without it physically hurting and to relax without being hyper-aware and vigilant of her surroundings, fearful that he would say or do something to upset her.

Stiles lips curl like the opinion isn't unanimous, but he says nothing to Lydia about it. He runs long fingers through his jet black hair and sighs gruffly, turning and walking toward the lake that Scott and Kira were occupying, oblivious to the rest of the world as they remained wrapped in each other's arms in a passionate kiss. Apparently they made up.

He hangs his legs over the edge of the bank after removing his shoes, allowing his feet to soak in the shallow water and smirking when he saw Kira splash Scott across his face. He splutters as he chokes on the water, regretting his decision to open his mouth and stick his tongue out at her.

Lydia doesn't want to cry. Truthfully, she's fucking sick of crying. It seems like it's all she does anymore. She mourns and she grieves and she self-pities, and it makes her feel weak. It always has, but her emotions have always been out of her control. Sometimes she was better at hiding it though.

So when she snivels, still standing behind Stiles and watching her friends, she tries to keep it to herself. She does an about-face and rubs her fingers roughly over the bags of her eyes and murmurs to emotions, "Don't fucking cry, please don't cry."

"Lydia,"

She didn't expect Stiles to call her name. She thought he'd return to ignoring her; blame her for Malia's resentment. Blinking away any tears, Lydia swivels back around with a blank face that suggests she feels no emotion.

Stiles shakes a bottle at her, a slow grin exposing pearly white teeth. "Drink?"

Lydia smiles lazily and kicks her shoes off to the side, plopping beside him and gratefully taking it from his hands, clasping the neck of the glass bottle as she takes a heavy swig, throwing her head back to swallow down its contents.

His eyebrows raise at her candid behavior, reaching over and resting his hand over the side of the bottle to stop her. "Easy there, champ." he pulls it back to an upright position in her grasp. "We still have to go kayaking after this."

"Like that takes so much effort," Lydia rolls her eyes, flipping a piece of hair behind her shoulder.

Stiles finds this amusing, something sweet playing on his lips. "Have you ever been kayaking?"

She blinks, chewing on her lip as she avoids his honey eyes. "Well, no, but it's a double bladed paddle propelled by strength and skill. No one has strength and skill like me," she relays confidently.

"Is that right?" he gently takes the bottle from her, chuckling as he admires the lipstick coated rim. He swabs a thumb over the opening, collecting the maquillage he found there off of the tip until it was clean, guzzling down the alcohol at the surface.

"Gimme," Lydia squeezes her hands at the air in front of her, gesturing for more booze.

Stiles sighs dramatically, "I'm going to have to monitor your intake, I can already tell. You'll be falling over within in a half hour." At her sour expression, he hands it over with one last thing to say, "You're not drinking because you're upset about Calvin, right?"

"Are you drinking because of Malia?" She counters, her mouth enveloping the nozzle and leaving the same red stains as she had previously.

He rolls his eyes at the sight, but stills at the question before blatantly responding. "Nope. I like drinking. Drinking good."

"Well then," she narrows her eyes at him. "Me too."

"Liar, liar dress on fire," he teases lightheartedly. At the sad way her eyes trail to the sloshing water Kira and Scott are swimming in, he turns serious. "All couples fight, Lydia."

Lydia's head springs up instantly. "We're not a couple."

"Oh," Stiles' lips twist thoughtfully. "You sure?"

"I think I would know," Lydia drawls, taking another gulp of the bitter substance and shivering as it slickly runs down her throat. She kicks her feet in the water nervously. "What…" she clears her throat right along with her nerves as the alcohol begins to hit her. "What about Malia?" her gaze trails over to Stiles, her stomach doing a flippy dance when she saw he was already staring at her, studying. He was trying to figure out her train of thought; her intentions.

"We're just having fun," he frowns. "I told you that already."

"I thought maybe things changed since then," Lydia passes the bottle back toward him as the world grows more vibrant and wavy. She should probably stop drinking soon.

"They haven't," Stiles is quick to respond, as if he doesn't want her to believe they could.

"That's…" she blinks, realizing she isn't sure what to say next. "Good."

"Good?" He tilts his head at her pensively. "Why is that good?" He knew he was probably reading far too much into the things she was saying. After all, she was a bit drunk and he was taking advantage of the honesty of a person that lacked sobriety.

Lydia immediately recognizes that it was not the right thing to say, so she takes advantage of their current situation and fakes a laugh. "I don't know, I'm drunk!" She claims with just a bit more of a slur than she actually had.

"Okay, time to cut you off." Stiles places the nearly empty bottle of irish cream off to the side, using his hands to propel himself backwards, moving toward the nearest tree.

"Where are you going?" Lydia whines.

"I'm not going anywhere, come here." He lowers himself back to the mossy ground, leaning his back against the bark.

"What, are we snuggling now?" Lydia snorts sarcastically as she crawls toward him, finding the world a bit too shaky to stand on her own two feet right now.

"Something like that." Stiles mutters before carefully asking, "Is that okay with you?"

Lydia is taken aback by his reply, her heart jumping into her throat as she pauses in front of him, admiring his face. He doesn't appear to be joking or trying to test her. His tongue is caught between his lips thoughtfully, his eyes expectant and a little nervous too. She knew that no matter how he felt, it had nothing on her anxiety, especially here and now. Once upon a time, Stiles held the record for "most panic attacks" within the group. Now, that undesirable award belonged to her.

"Sure," her cheeks flush at the way her voice cracks, and when his strong arms pull her against his contracting chest she does all she can to prevent from biting through her own tongue, molding against his form. His muscled limbs wind around her protectively, settling along her abdomen.

Lydia is stiff for just a moment before she relaxes into their positioning, letting her head drop back against his clavicle. His hot breath brushes against the crook of her shoulder and sways the little hairs peeking out from the nape of her neck. She apprehensively giggles drunkenly and his hold on her tightens instinctively. She absent mindedly plucks lightly at the hairs on his arm.

"Mmm," Stiles hums into her neck. "This is nice"

She gulps unsteadily, her body growing rigid. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable per se, but she couldn't help but feel that he was only doing this because he was a bit buzzed, or maybe he was really just testing her. Why else would he want her? "Uhuh."

His chin leans forward to rest against her shoulder, and he feels the muscles tightened there. "Are you okay?" Stiles' brows furrow in concern. "Because we can stop…"

"No, no. It's okay, I'm fine." Lydia licks her dry lips. "It's just…"

"Yeah?" Stiles presses impatiently.

She says the first thing that comes to her overwrought brain. "I just realized that I think I left my flat iron on back home."

His laugh rumbles through his chest and vibrates through her body, and it makes her feel warm and gooey, like the inside of a freshly baked cookie. "You're funny," he whispers huskily, pressing his lips against a soft spot on her neck. One of his hands travels toward her arm to trek softly over the pale skin there.

"Uh…." Lydia stills. "Why are you touching me?"

"Do you want me to stop?"

She didn't. She really didn't, but she was so paranoid about why he might be doing this.

"No I just…"

Stiles comes up with her next excuse for her. "Did you want to go kayaking?" he squeezes her in a hug.

"Yeah," she frowns. "But I was signed up to go with Calvin."

"I was supposed to go with Malia," Stiles points out. "But neither of them are here." the way his voice rises suggests that he has an idea. "So the logical and only possible solution is for us to go together. I mean, they left us no choice…" he draws out.

Lydia desperately wants to ask him what the hell he's trying to do here and she mostly just hopes that he really means everything he's doing and implying. "We're supposed to go with our partners."

"I'm pretty capable of telling some lame sign-in sheet that my name is Calvin," he tells her dryly. Then his breath pauses as he considers something "...Unless you don't want to go with me, which is fine too.."

"No, I do!" Lydia glances back at him and almost regrets it just because his eyes are hypnotizing. And then she makes a decision.

Fuck Calvin. Fuck him and his rude shouting and intimidation and threats and grabby hands because he is no one and he can not control her like this. If she told Stiles everything, he would be there for her. He and the rest of the pack. There was no way they would let him get away with it, and he wouldn't hurt any of her friends. They were too smart for one little human. He had no idea what they were capable of. They were strong and fearless and he was tiny. His menace consisted of words and blackmail thus far, and Lydia wasn't entirely convinced he was truly proficient in what he claimed to be.

If she wanted, she could tell Stiles today. She could end it once and for all. "Let's do it."

Stiles lips tug into a broad smile, and he shifts them forward, pulling Lydia to her feet along with him. "Excellent."

Lydia's stomach stirred in anticipation. She wasn't sure what was about to happen, but a promising night of particularly interesting events was ensured to occur. She could only pray that tonight would consist of positive experiences.

She wasn't quite that lucky.


	10. Blue

**A/N: I realize some of you are getting a tiny bit impatient with me for not having Stiles find out, but I promise, even though the buildup is slow and you'd like to see his reaction right now, it will all be worth it in the end. At least this way, the story is even longer, right?**

**Thanks to all of my repeat-reviewers, I know reviewing a story can be annoying sometimes, but I appreciate you sticking with me.**

**I'm not sure that I'm happy with this chapter because there isn't a whole bunch of action, but if you guys are then that's all that really matters.**

**Also 4x09 taught me that Malia cannot get drunk, so you'll have to just forgive me for her plastered behavior a few chapters back. For the sake of this story, were-creatures can get drunk on certain types of stronger alcohol. If people can pretend Allison is still alive, at least give me that!(;**

* * *

**Blue**

_Night falls, I fall, and where were you? And where were you?_

_Warm skin, wolf grin, and where were you?_

_I fell into the moon and it covered you in blue…_

_I fell into the moon, can I make it right? Can I spend the night?_

_High tide, inside, the air is dew… and where were you?_

_Wild eyed, I died… and where were you?_

_I crawled out of the world when you said I shouldn't stay_

_I crawled out of the world._

_Can I make it right? Can I spend the night?_

_Alone._

- Angie Hart, "Blue"

Nine

For the first five minutes they spent in their kayaks, Lydia and Stiles were racing across the deep ocean water. The reflection of the crescent moon in the softly swaying sea was one of the most beautiful things either teenager had seen, and watching the mirror of water flicker across Lydia's pale face was a sight for Stiles' sore eyes.

Whoever reached the luminescent orange buoy first was declared the winner, which inevitably turned out to be Stiles, due to his vast amount of previous experience kayaking with his father when he was a young boy.

With aching arms due to a fierce struggle to paddle in a fast speed against the water, Lydia expected her grinning companion to demand a reward of some kind, watching in admiration as he shakes out his wet hair with a smug appreciation. After he pressed his fingers to the buoy and announced so gallantly that he was the champion, she swung her paddle against the blue ocean water and splashed it toward his kayak to soak his entire body. It only got better when his sopping shirt clung to the best parts of his chest, the only evidence that there really could be an angel looking out for Lydia Martin.

"What now?" Lydia asked from her seat. She'd chosen the bright yellow kayak because it reminded her of the sun; it could be her beacon in the water that guided her way. Other than that half-round gorgeous moon hanging low in the sky like it was meant for only them, of course. She'd never expected the ocean to be so well lit, and had forced Stiles to bring flashlights.

Her kayak had a distinguishing chip in the rubber along the side, and when Stiles told her to choose a strong one, fit for a strong girl, she just couldn't let it go. It was imperfect like her, and the sooner he saw that side of her the better. Even the flawed deserved to be loved in some way. How long had it been since the chipped kayak had been taken to the ocean, to serve its actual purpose in the world? Maybe she was overthinking it.

Stiles gnaws on the corner of his bottom lip, usually caramel eyes darkened to hazelnut under the overhanging shadow of nightfall. "Just follow me," he says finally, lifting his paddle from where it once lay across the rubber of his red kayak's hood and plunging it back in the water.

"The dock is that way…" The banshee points over her shoulder with a thumb.

"No shit," Stiles mutters. "We're not going back yet…" and then he adds in for good measure, "You're wearing your bathing suit right?"

Lydia narrows suspicious eyes. "Yes… under my dress." As she paddles close behind, she feels it's necessary to ask, "What are you up to, Stilinski?"

"Oh, Ms. Martin, I thought you could appreciate a good surprise!"

"Not if you're going to kill me and dump my body in the ocean."

"No way!" Stiles called backwards. "If I were going to kill you, I'd find a much more original way to do it."

Within ten minutes, they've reached whatever it is Stiles has been looking for. A cavern in the ocean, shrouded by bedrock and cobble stone, lodged into the perfect shape of a grotto. Crystal shaped rock formations hang down from the ceiling, dripping little droplets of water into the ocean below and creating small pools of outstretched dimples on the surface.

"Wow," is all Lydia can say, her kayak merely floating in the direction of Stiles' as she loses the focus to paddle, distracted by the beauty of nature holed up in this small dark arena. "This is incredible."

She only just notices that Stiles has gotten out of his kayak, pulling it up against the ledge of rock as he climbs out. He beckons her in his direction with gesturing hands.

"Come on," Stiles remarks as he kneels onto his feet to reel in Lydia's boat with a tug of his hands. He quickly reaches a hand forward to help her out, but instead of accepting it she hops out onto the gravelly ground without his assistance. "Okay then," he quips as he abruptly pulls it back.

"How did you know about this place?"

"I did my research on the campgrounds before our trip, apparently a lot of people like to visit this area… although, we're not allowed to get out of our boats and walk around."

Lydia rolls her eyes. _Classically Stiles._

"I was gonna take Malia here…She likes this kind of stuff." Neither were prepared for the awkward silence that came next. His eyes flit over to hers regretfully, his knuckles knocking against the rock below his bent knees. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Why not?" Lydia answered back with a tone she hoped indicated how little she cared, even if that weren't necessarily true. He doesn't answer, and that doesn't sit well with her, so she tries again. "Why _didn't_ you take her here?"

His eyes bore into hers, a flame lit with a sparking match of intensity. "Because I got to take _you_."

Lydia's breath catches in her throat, and she splutters out a coughing fit.

Stiles raises a heavy brow. "You alright?"

"I," Lydia hacks another cough. " - swallowed wrong." She ignores the hint of a smile on his lips and instead watches the water gently sway in front of her feet.

"I'm going for a swim," Stiles declares with a flourish of his brows, stripping off his sticking wet shirt and tossing it aside before Lydia could question the decision. She hadn't even realized he was wearing swim trunks. "Care to join me?" He's dangling his legs over the ledge now, prepared to jump in.

"What?" Lydia squints at him carefully. "N-No. That's not a good idea."

"It's just water, Lydia. What's the worst that could happen?" When she remains mum, he shrugs one side of his shoulders and drops into the water with a splatter that reaches the exposed skin of Lydia's legs. She lurches backwards against the rock wall with a shriek. "Sorry, did I getcha?" He grins, the water sloshing against his chin where he rhythmically sways the arms that keep him afloat.

"Just barely," she glares, dramatically swiping the liquid from her legs.

"Are you sure you don't want to come in?" Stiles leans back to allow the water to run through his spiked hair, causing it to deflate and flatten in a sloppy mess atop his head. "The waters cool."

The banshee eyeballs the swimming human with a great deal of cynicism, so focused on his expression that her eyelid is involuntarily twitching. She doesn't want to scare him off, so she does the only thing she can. She grips the hem of her dress with two firm hands and pulls upward, appreciating the feel of his admiring eyes on her body and throwing it in the same spot his shirt was earlier tossed.

"Do you like my bikini?" Lydia shakes her shoulders for emphasis, not missing the jiggle it caused in her more voluptuous areas.

He hadn't missed it either. "Uhhp...Mm..yep. Very nice." He regains his confidence as swiftly as he lost it, performing a few forward strokes until he was at the ledge her feet were dangling over. He takes one more moment to savor the view. Pale but shapely flesh molded by a peach bikini top clinging so delicately to her breasts and stringy where it was tied around her neck and back, a baby blue bottom-piece eloquently matching.

"What are you waiting for?" Lydia cocked her head to the right, a large section of strawberry hair skirting to the other side of her neck. "Pull me in."

Stiles' face freezes before understanding flickers across his wide eyes and parted mouth. Without another word, he places large hands on either side of her waist and plucks her off the ledge. She lands in the water in front of him with a plop, his arms remaining encased securely around her.

"See? Not so bad." His voice is low and husky, and it sends prickling needles up Lydia's already cold arms once the brisk frozen water settles around her form.

"S-Speak for yourself," she shivers, only further trembling when he tightens his hold on her.

And then Stiles is staring at her in a way she doesn't know how to respond to, a light bulb flickering on somewhere in the center of his iris. "Can I try something?" The water is steady where it brushes flush against their bodies.

Lydia's heart stutters, and she could swear she almost felt it fail. With a quiver of a breath she manages a "What..?"

He lowers his face toward hers, eyelids drifting closed and his breath brushing as a whisper against hers. _This is it_. He's going to kiss her. Something she's been waiting for since her heart first betrayed her mind. But why did she still feel so anxious? It's because his breath smells like liquor and there's an angry werecoyote somewhere in the woods right now cursing his name. She has to say something. She has to know if this is genuine, that he isn't going to wake up tomorrow with regret and tell her it was a mistake. She isn't sure she would be able to handle that. With a pulsating heart, she's ready to find out just what is delaying her desire to let him do it.

"Stiles -" and then his mouth was on hers.

Lydia's eyes didn't slip closed, she didn't melt into his embrace and press everything she had into his soft kiss. There wasn't an explosion of passion and she didn't nearly faint from the heat exhaustion that overwhelmed her. Yet her breath still caught, and her eyes were populous like a cartoon character. But that uncertainty was still there at the tip of her tongue, even as his brushed against it, warm and flavored like alcohol and cream.

So she drew back on impulse, flailing so violently that she had to grab onto the ledge behind her. With her free hand, she defiantly shoves his shoulder "Are you completely wasted!?"

"What?" Stiles glowers, fixating on her with shock written across stunned features and swollen lips that his tongue was still pressed between. "No!" He sucks his lip into his mouth thoughtfully. "Okay, I'm a little buzzed, but I'm not drunk. I know what I'm doing," he argues feverishly.

Lydia's gaze is scrutinizing. "_Do you?_" She ignores the icy chill in her veins, courtesy of the dropping temperature as the hours wore on, fading into the late hours of night.

"I kissed you," he claims blatantly. "Did you not want that? Because either I'm seriously misreading signals here, or you're a little bipolar."

"Says the guy with a girlfriend!" Lydia blurted.

"Malia and I aren't together, Lydia!" His eyebrows bend bitterly. "How many times do I have to tell you that before it actually sticks?" He grips onto the rocky ledge with one hand, squeezing so tightly that the tips of his fingers have gone pink.

"If that were true, why would she jealously storm into the woods earlier tonight?"

Stiles sighs gruffly, pinching the bridge of his nose with a dripping wet hand. "She was only mad because she thought I was lying to her about nothing going on between us.:

Lydia wants to say this carefully, but she doesn't bother. "Weren't you?"

"Well, no. I hadn't kissed you at that point. Now I have, and when she asks, I'll be upfront about it."

"No!" The first thought that comes to Lydia's mind is Calvin. If Malia knows, it will spread throughout their pack and at some point, Calvin will learn the truth without any doubt. It was only a matter of time, and she wasn't going to put Stiles at risk, not now. Not after everything that happened tonight. She wanted to tell him the truth so desperately, but she wasn't sure she could anymore. Not when he was right here in front of her, putting himself out there for her without any regard for anything else. She knew now, that he wanted her… and damn if she didn't spend the last few months shamefully wanting him, taking every little glimpse she could at the lunch table when no one was watching, turning her head away everytime he and Malia would quietly flirt, little voices and loud minds whispering to Lydia that she'd never be part of that world.

Stiles' immediate reaction is to frown. "Why not?"

Lydia regards the mole-littered face of the boy she adores, a fist seizing her heart. "It would hurt her feelings," she lies, guarded by the thin and cracking wall that hid her tragic secrets.

"Malia understands that things between us are temporary."

"Keep telling yourself that," Lydia murmurs, lowering her head to watch the shaky water caress her flat stomach with little else to say. All that was left were the broken promises of a tiny voice in her head that once told her she could give away every undisclosed horrible thing that Calvin had said and yet to do. Things she could confess to Stiles.

Stiles leaned forward to see through the curtain of deep cherry painted hair hanging in front of her pouting face. "Why are you sad?" He exhales audibly, believing he knew the cause. "I'm sorry I kissed you, I shouldn't have done that."

"You… regret it? _Already_?" She thought his drunk-ass would at least wait until morning before he pulled that nonsense.

"No!" He was quick to correct her misplaced worries. "No… But you're confusing me a little here, Lyd. Did you want to kiss me or not? Because honestly, I don't think I can handle the back and forth as well as I used to," he admitted, a revealing weakness cracking his words in half.

Lydia takes one long gander at the boy before her, his heart dangling from his sleeve, something she hadn't seen in a long time. He was so pretty, drippy and wet, shrouded by the shade of the rocky cavern walls that shadowed the side of his face, accenting the indents of his clamped jaw. Despite how much older and more defined he appeared now, as opposed to a year ago, he retained the same playful innocence, even if it was somehow tainted by the nogitsune and everything he went through these past few months. Not one of them had survived without the scars of the past marring their minds and souls.

"I did," she murmurs in all it's finality. "I still do, but I'm scared." Her heart climbs to her throat.

Stiles is moving toward her again, scrummaging through the barrier of ocean to gather her closer, her smaller form taut against his. He doesn't even take his time to appreciate the feel of her bare stomach against his heavily puffing one as he breathes with beautiful furor. "You have nothing to be afraid of." A stroke of his fingers over the back of her matted wet hair soothes her.

The statement alone makes Lydia want to cry, only she doesn't. She wants to live in this moment for as long as she can, she doesn't want to turn it into a fest of waterworks and comfort, because she wants them to have fun and enjoy each other's company for as long as it lasts. They may not have much time. It's probably past eleven now, it has to be. "Just kiss me."

Stiles readily obliges, reaching one hand around to cup the back of her head and heaving her forward to interlock their plump smackers, keeping a firm grip on strands of moist hair and smiling against her lips as he hears the faint traces of her humming her satisfaction under his mouth.

Lydia's arms wind around his neck, tugging herself closer and lifting herself higher out of the water and into his embrace. He's more than happy to accept her presence, laving her cold tongue with his warm one and increasing her core body temperature from chattering cold to overheated within seconds. The water sloshes around them, almost as greedy as they are, their fast and steady movements creating a ripple effect in the blue sea surrounding them.

Pressing his lips to Lydia Martin's was the one of the most marvellous parts of Stiles Stilinski's mortal coil, an unreal wave of emotion striking him in the most sensitive places and an electrical cord running haywire down his spine. He was feeling a lot of things; he was warm, he was happy, and he was sure as hell turned on.

Feeling a laugh crack against his mouth, Stiles realizes that she's aware of his predicament, the fault of their tight-knit proximity and the legs he was only just realizing were wrapped around his waist. No wonder she could tell.

"You be quiet," he murmurs jokingly, gently nibbling on her lower lip playfully and reaching under the cloak of water to squeeze her bottom.

Lydia yelps, lurching against him in astonishment. She smacks his chest. "Getting frisky!"

"So says the monkey wrapped around me," he justifies with his usual twinge of smugness.

Her eyes dart to Stiles' shiny moistened lips, her thighs involuntarily squeezing around his hips. As soon as the responsive groan leaves him she's attacking his lips again with twice as much passion and vigor, running sharp nails over the back of his neck and feeling her heart lift in success when he shivers, tugging at the short strands at the root of his dark hair.

He practically growls against her, the sound a vibrating rumble against her sucking kiss. Stiles presses a palm flat against her back, molding the pliant flesh covering her trapezius and pressing her as tightly to him as possible, like they were melting into one another.

Lydia squeals when he roughly spins them around, a rush of cold water creasing over her folded legs, the only noise other than the sticky slide of colliding tongues and the guttural moans that both individuals were taking part in. Of course, Lydia wouldn't be responsible for such shrill symphonies if Stiles weren't pinching her thighs and rubbing wandering hands along her sides.

"You totally want me," Stiles states proudly, grinning even as he places another wet kiss on the center of her mouth.

She avoids his lips as he moves forward for a second, putting a firm finger up to his mouth to stop him. "Excuseme? You want me so much more. And I can prove it." Untangling herself from his grip, Lydia swims away from him with ease.

"What are you doing?" He tries to hide his disappointment at her sudden remoteness, already missing the touch of her scraping nails and icy wet skin in his nuzzling embrace.

"Come and get me," Lydia teases once she's far enough away, closer to the rock wall on the other side of the grotto.

"Unlike you I have self-control. You'll be back in my arms in minutes." He was sure of himself until he saw the glint of mischief sparkling in her iris, and then he knew she was about to prove him wrong.

Her right shoulder lifts in a nonchalant shrug, so slight that it was barely noticeable. She flutters her eyelids at him and swiftly turns so that her back is facing him. She can almost see his eyes enlarge as she reaches around her back to untie one string of her bikini top.

Being around Stiles tonight brought back an old side of her; not the materialism she put on for show in front of the entire world, but the confidence she wore when she would target attractive men as if she were a siren, risque techniques and a straightforwardness to her flirtation that would reel them like fish into a barrel as easily and natural as breathing came to her. Reverting back to the "player" ways she used to know was accidental, and she couldn't pinpoint exactly why she was doing it, but it kind of felt nice to be this way with someone who knew her for who she really was, and not the mask she chose to wear.

"L-Lydia?"

Her lips perk up slyly as the binding around her neck slips off, the only thing keeping her chest covered was the arm she used to hold the swimsuit lining in its place. A fresh brush of cold air whispered over her exposed neck. "Are you coming or not?" She angles her head to check behind her, gasping when she realized that his arrival was impending, the water shifting as he crowds into her personal space. Immediately, she turns her head to face forward again, finding herself unable to meet his cloudy eyes. Guessing what his expression was like was much easier than actually seeing it.

Lydia's arms tighten around her bust at the faint sensation of Stiles tracing his fingertips along the side of her shoulder and trailing downward until he reached her wrist, circling the little blue veins there before slipping his fingers into hers, knitting their hands together. His arms travel back around her, snaking over her stomach to pull her against his heaving chest, soaked with ocean water and just a little bit of nervous perspiration.

Stiles presses his cheek against hers, rubbing softly, and opens his mouth to quietly speak, "I like you Lydia."

He knew just how to pull her heart strings, a puppeteer for her emotions. Instead of speaking, she licks her swelling lips and fights back tears that she doesn't even understand the existence of.

Thankfully, he doesn't expect her to talk, and continues on. "But I don't want to be one of Lydia Martin's conquests." He reaches over her shoulder and collects the strings of her bathing suit to tie them back around her neck. "This isn't about sex."

Lydia blinks at the sudden font of confusion that overwhelms her. "I never thought it _was_." She tries to angrily whip around, but the ocean turns her abrupt turn into a slow one. "What the hell are you talking about, _conquests!_?"

Stiles recognizes his mistake right away. "No, no I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what exactly did you mean?" She motions to poke him hard in the chest, but he captures her finger there and splays her hand across his skin. She swallows hard at the intimacy of it all.

"You've always been kind of a…" at her impatient demeanor that was growing to be more annoyed and reddened by the millisecond, he meekly finishes with, "a heartbreaker?"

"You meant a player," Lydia says poignantly, fiercely yanking her hand back. "You were going to call me a player."

Stiles runs the now-lonely hand through his sopping hair. "Well, is that the wrong terminology? You made a lot of guys feel a lot of things and then you backed off. I just don't want to be one of those guys, especially if that's what you're doing with Calvin. I mean… are you ready for more than that? Have you ever been?"

Lydia laughs bitterly. "Are you forgetting Jackson… or _Aiden_? Two guys I gave my heart to."

"Aiden is not a good example, Lydia. You never took him seriously." When her disposition grew even more frightening, Stiles felt backtracking was necessary. With a hard swallow he dared ask "Can we just go back to kissing?"

x-x-x

"Calvin, maybe you should slow down…" When Malia had decided to take Calvin for a walk, she hadn't realize it would turn into a babysitting job. He was knocking back drinks like it was the end of the world, a shot of tequila followed up with another plastic cup filled with rum. It all started when they returned to the campsite after taking some time to calm down. He'd been pretty good at convincing her that it wasn't worth getting stressed over, which she found odd considering how livid he'd been with Lydia just seconds prior. She could smell it on him. When they got back and found out that Stiles and Lydia decided to kayaking by themselves, that was when the drinking started.

"Why should I stop now when things are just starting to look a little less bleak?" Calvin swirls the dull bronze liquid in his cup, staring down at it intently while he chewed on the edge of his nail to the point where it was breaking.

Malia carefully watches him, detecting his inner turmoil. "You smell like self-destruction."

Calvin laughs drunkenly, pointing a lazy finger at her. "I think that maybe you're the one who's had too much to drink."

The werecoyote inwardly rolls her eyes, wondering how she's going to take care of this stupid human and be pissed off at Stiles at the same time. Everytime she tries to put her mind on something else, it goes right back to him and her and whatever it is that _they_ are doing. "Do you think they're cheating on us?" She blurts out, before she can stop herself. It's not the best thing to ask someone who's severely intoxicated, especially when the reason for his drunken stupor is the very thing she's bringing up.

Calvin's smile vanishes, though his eyes remain glazed and unfocused. His hands flail as he replies, "They're probably fucking right now." He pushes himself to a sitting position. "We have to go confront them about it. We still have our own kayaks and we haven't even used them yet."  
Malia blankly stares at him. "Somehow, I think operating a boat would be a bad idea in your… predicament."

"Now you sound like Lydia," he drawls, already pushing himself into a standing position. "Come on, we'll find them."

It would be a very stupid idea if they were just two normal people searching the ocean for their betraying lovers, but Malia was capable of sniffing them out and following Stiles' trail until it led them to wherever they were. In front of Calvin, she could just act like she was lucky enough to figure out where they were. It wasn't like he was going to question the strangeness of it, he was too drunk. Then again, he might be too drunk to kayak as well. There was only one way to find out.

"Promise you won't drown."

Calvin sighs dramatically. "No, Malia, I will not drown _myself_."

Her eyebrows furrow at the emphasis, but she finally nods in agreement. "Good." she glances back toward the tents, where Kira and Scott are cuddled up under some blankets doing god knows what. "But we're not telling _them_."

"Deal."

x-x-x

"I really am sorry," Stiles tried, sitting with bent knees on the rocky ledge. Lydia was leaning against the wall, her legs curled up to her chest and a frustrated gleam in her eyes where they were cast off in the distance, like he wasn't there.

They hadn't brought towels, but had mostly air dried since their decision to get out of the water. It was freezing, especially since they'd adjusted to the temperature of the water, air brisk and shuttering around them. Stiles would have offered to trap her body heat with his, but the suggestion would probably only make her more furious with him.

"I don't think you're a player, and I didn't mean that you were just using me. I don't think that at all, I swear." The silence of the dewey air was almost too much to bare. He reached a hesitant hand out and brushed it delicately against her knee. "Please talk to me."

"I'm mad at you," Lydia gritted out, surprised at her newfound ability to be honest with him. At this rate, if she kept it up, she'd be confessing everything to him within just a few minutes. As long as he kept trying to get her to open up, that is.

"I know… and you should be." his pouty face was weakening her resolve.

"Yep." But she was going to hold out for as long as she could.

Stiles sighed heavily, moving to sit back against the rock beside her, almost slamming the back of his head against it as he allowed his body to lean backwards. He leans an elbow over his knee, folded into a position that looked uncomfortable. "I'm such a jerk."

And just like that, Lydia crumpled with guilt. "No you're not. You're just… Stiles."

"Stiles the filterless asshole with no tact," he mutters begrudgingly.

"Stop putting yourself down!" Lydia demands, slapping a hand on his knee chastisingly. "You just upset me, because I don't want you to think that I would ever do that… I mean I _have… _but I don't want you to think that I would ever do that to _you_."

"I was only asking because I want things to work out like they're supposed to." His shoulders shrug automatically, and he shakes his head to himself. "I don't know, it's stupid. Nevermind."

She wants to tell him that it's not stupid and that she understands, but instead she just takes his hand and holds it, like they have so many times today.

It seems to be enough, because his head slowly turns toward hers, a reassurance lighting up his eyes and flitting the slightest bit of a smile over his once dismal lips.

They sit in perfect silence for a while after that, his thumb trailing over the back of her hand and hers squeezing his so tightly like she's afraid it will suddenly slip away and he'll be gone. The very thought is frightening to her, that she could be so completely terrified of losing this one boy in her life. He wasn't her family, but more. Something else entirely, but still important like a brother might be. With different feelings, so strong that they were painful.

The perfect vesicle of peace shatters in one instant moment. It started with a new rush of water from the opening of the cave, and when they turned curious eyes toward the new sound, two familiar faces appearing in front of the shadow of night caused two more hearts to drop.

"Malia," Stiles was the first to say, just as the two kayaks pulled to a stop in front of the ledge and both parties climbed out. Where Malia and Calvin moved with confidence, Stiles and Lydia cowered back uncomfortably, pulling their hands apart relatively fast and jumping to their legs.

Stiles could smell the alcohol coming off of Calvin in waves, even before he was near them. It was strong and almost vile, his nose wrinkling at the new disturbing scent. He was never the kind of guy to get completely wasted, not after everything with his father in the past. Then he felt Lydia squishing into his side, seeking protection or comfort of some kind. That was confusing. Calvin throwing daggers at Stiles with his eyes… Now that was _less_ confusing.

"What are you doing here?" Malia asked bitterly, her lips inverted into a straight line and her foot tapping restlessly against rock. She admires their lack of clothing, her eyes skating over their wet bathing suits.

"You guys were gone for a while, so we decided to go kayaking," Stiles lacked any real poise, and it made him seem even guiltier. When he realizes they're both staring at his swim trunks and Lydia's bikini, he expounds upon his explanation. " - And we went swimming."

"You don't say?" Malia grits out.

Lydia knew this would happen, or at least something along these lines. She knew that Malia would not take it well, and that Stiles was either lying or way god damn off when it came to his knowledge about what Malia thought was the definition of their relationship. Lydia was completely avoiding looking at Calvin, and she hated herself for it, as well as the unexplainable fear welling deep inside an ache in the center of her chest. She unconsciously moved closer to Stiles, clinging to his side as if he would offer some kind of barrier, her knees feeling vaguely like rubber. It wasn't like he even knew what was going on between them, so how could Stiles possibly help?  
"First, let me just say," Calvin nearly tripped over his own feet, the entire world wavy as the disoriented teenager took his first step forward, just to avoid falling into the water. "kayaking is fucking hard."

"You're completely wasted," Stiles doesn't mean to sound like an ass, but the bitterness is detectable. "You shouldn't be in a boat like this anyway."

"You shouldn't be in a boat with my girlfriend, _anyway_," the drunk teen retorted just as frustratedly.

Stiles snorts, his tongue curling with sarcasm as he bites back sarcastically, "We were in our own boats, actually." He holds back the part about Lydia not being his girlfriend, because there was really no point in getting a wasted teenager more pissed off than he was. It would be adding fuel to an already raging flame, and one look at Malia told him that this fire may be more out of control than he ever anticipated.

"We were just about to leave," Lydia chimes in lowly, hoping to put a stop to the back and forth before it gets out of hand. Feeling the attention of the cave transfer to her, she regrets the decision to speak up.

"_No you weren't_," Calvin hacks.

"We were just swimming," Stiles defends with with a red face and bending brows, growing more fed up with the inebriated boy who had no right to be upset, a mere stranger amongst their group of friends. He wasn't even supposed to be on this trip. Stiles didn't want to be embroiled into an argument between Lydia and Calvin, especially when he had his own problems with Malia to now worry about, but this guy was getting on his last nerve and he was pretty much ready to tell him off, but Lydia's distress was coming off her in waves and he wasn't going to start something.

"We just wanted to make sure you were okay," Malia says thickly. "We should get back to the campsite, it's late." She grabs Stiles hand and gently pulls.

"Uh, I don't think Calvin should be kayaking like this. If he falls in the water I'm not saving him."

"Lydia can wait with him until he sobers up a bit," Malia suggests readily, unrelenting. "Is that okay with you guys?"

"Yeah, my Lyd-ee will take good care of me." Calvin slurs, moving forward to wrap an arm around the banshee to avoid toppling over. He lightly pinches her shoulder to hug her closer to his side, completely separating her from Stiles and Malia.

"I don't know," Stiles rubs the back of his neck haphazardly. "Might be too much of a handful for her, taking care of a wasted teenager." his eyes focus attentively on Lydia, waiting for her to make contact of some kind, but she refuses to look up from the gravel where she's kicking her feet so he continues on. "I can hang back with Calvin while you girls go back.. if you want?" He wants to help her out, but she isn't giving him much to work with. Hell, he doesn't even know what she'd like to do here.

"Just go!" Calvin cuts in, much to Stiles' chagrin. "We can sit and admire this pretty little cave thing you found until it's _safe_ for someone in my condition to be out in troubled waters."

At first, Stiles feels the stirrings of paranoia telling him that Calvin is acting more drunk than he actually is, but he dismisses the thought as soon as it strikes him. It made no sense. "If that's okay with _Lydia_," he firmly tells Calvin, implying that he should shut his mouth about it being okay and let the girl decide for herself.

Lydia hangs her head low as the attention once again returns to her. "I'll stay." She isn't even sure how she got the words out, shoulders slumping in compliance as she gives up, allowing Calvin to remain holding onto her. She hated the way he smelled right now, and up close was even worse.

"Are you sure?" Stiles feels that the entire situation is on unsteady ground, only further evident by Lydia's avoiding gaze and nervous stature. Maybe she didn't want to have this conversation with Calvin yet.. telling him that she wasn't serious about him like he was about her. That she liked Stiles. Doubt clouded Stiles' thoughts once more as he considered the possibility that Lydia wasn't going to tell him about their...whatever they were and might become. He wasn't going to say anything about it to Malia until he discussed it with the banshee first.

"Yeah," Her eyes are guilty as they meet his, and it does nothing to make his worry recede. "I'll see you later, Stiles…" It almost sounds like she doesn't really mean it, and he tries not to read too much into the context there.

"Okay.." And he's angry with himself for listening, he's angry with himself as he gets back in his kayak and rows beside Malia back to the shore. He's angry when he mutters an apology to her for their earlier argument, and even when he climbs under his blankets beside an already sleeping Scott.

When dawn breaks, Lydia still hasn't returned.

x-x-x

Calvin was beyond enraged, Lydia could see that before he ever spoke a word, before his accusing eyes were on hers, filled with animosity and loathing. She folded into a shell of who she used to be, backing herself into the furthest corner of the ledge and hugging herself, desperate for solace. His alcohol level was only going to make him worse than he would be if he'd skipped the last few rounds available to him.

When Stiles and Malia disappeared around the bend, vanishing out of the cave's entrance, Lydia waited for Calvin to blow up at her. Several seconds ticked by, and with each passing one, her anxiety grew a little less steady, less maintainable. If he didn't burst, she was going to. Gulping down a wave of panic, Lydia dug her nails into the skin of her upper arm.

Calvin sniffed the air like he was admiring the tension. "I love the smell of the sea, it's like salt." Finally acknowledging her puffs of uneasy breath, he tilts a clenched jaw in her direction. "Why are you so far away?"

"You smell like liquor."

He laughs gutturally. "I didn't realize smart girls stated the obvious." Stumbling toward her, the edge of his shoe catches on a jutting rock, but he stops himself from landing hard by placing a firm hand on the wall. "You're so sneaky… Waiting until I'm gone and taking Stiles to this little romantic spot. How cute of you." His bitterness can't be mistaken.

"He took me here."

"_And you let him_," Calvin barks, leaning just a little bit closer, enough to intimidate as he so purposely does. "What else did you let him do?" he snakes a finger over her shoulder, pushing delicately against the strap of her bikini to let it fall around her arm. "Did you let him touch you?"

Lydia immediately pulls it back to its rightful position. "What? No!" Hives appear on her chest, red and splotchy, caused only by her apprehension and fear. "You're being unreasonable. We were just kayaking."

"Don't treat me like a fucking idiot."

It isn't long before his hands are on her arms again, more than a threat, not even a warning. "Get your hands off me." She was getting deja vu, now.

"When did you grow a backbone, Lydia? What makes you think you can tell _me_ what to do?" Calvin has gone red in the face, eyes darkened and squinting with a stillness of his posture that suggests self-assurance.

"When I realized you're just a freak with empty threats! Stay away from me, and stay away from my friends," Lydia shoots back bravely, ignoring the overhanging feeling of dread creeping deep into her stomach and twisting painfully.

"_Oh,_ I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't forget. Then we'll see what you have to say about empty threats."

The world spins when he clenches down on her shoulders and swings them around, using the momentum to shove her off of the ledge and land against the side of her kayak, splashing into the water as she cracks her head against the rubber exterior. The force unhooked her boat from the rock, sending it floating away from them with ease, her bright yellow guiding light moving into the same far away space that Stiles had occupied, dissolving as he had.

Before Lydia understands what is actually happening, Calvin has grabbed her by the root of her hair, leaned over the edge of the gravel and forcing her head beneath the surface. A scream burbles out, but it is lost under the water, so blue and so cold. Where she feels it like ice against her face, it burns her and tightens her chest, the ability to breathe becoming more constricting and impossible.

With pure willpower and strength, Lydia uses her flailing arms to make it back to the surface and suck in a quick breath, but he's pushing down again, and the blurry blue ocean is all she sees. Bubbles form in the water in front of her from her desperate attempts at breathing, if only she were Ariel, if only she were a mermaid with the gift of taking water into her lungs and using it to survive. Instead it's killing her, burning her from the inside.

The amount of water she was drinking in, it was suffocating. It was filling her, the taste of salt tickling her taste-buds and sliding forcibly down her throat, never meant to take in this much at one time. Her arms are hurting, sore muscles like she'd been lifting weights for hour She never knew drowning would feel like this.

As her head becomes fuzzy and the outside world becomes faint and far away, Calvin fading so far into the distance it's like he's not even the one doing it anymore, Lydia can only recognize the blue blue ocean as it surrounds her and swallows her as deeply as she swallows its water.


	11. The Unwinding Cable Car

**A/N: So this chapter is kind of a filler/aftermath type of thing. There is no major plot development (except for some relationship stuff), but there is a lot of character reflection and decision making. I hope you like it anyways(:**

**I'm sorry for the wait, I got a lot of messages on tumblr asking for an update and I definitely took a lot longer this time.**

* * *

_**The Unwinding Cable Car**_

_Emotive unstable, you're like an unwinding cable car_

_Listening for voices, but it's the choices that make us who we are_

_Go your own way even seasons have changed,_

_Just burn those new leaves over_

_So self-absorbed you've seemed to ignore the prayers that have already come about_

_This is the correlation, of salvation and love_

_Don't drop your arms_

_Don't drop your arms, I'll guard your heart_

_With quiet words I'll lead you in._

- Anberlin

Ten

"Fuck. Oh shit." It wasn't long after Lydia lost consciousness that Calvin came to his senses, dragging her freezing limp body from the water and letting it fall motionless against the ledge. He was lightly slapping her cheek in a mantra, trying to rouse her with his eyes wild and frayed. The more empty time had passed, the more anxious and panicked his movements became "_Fuck_, Lydia. Wake up, wake up, "he roughly shakes her shoulders "_Wake up_!" He stills then, waiting and watching her chest as he waits for it to rise or fall or do _something_. Anything.

"No, you're not going to do this. Not now." Lydia's body is floppy, dead weight in Calvin's arms as he flips her over, holding her up in an awkward sitting pose as he smacks a flat hand hard against her back, trying to force the water out. "Come on," he leans her over the side more, her wet hair dropping from the back of her neck to rub thick wet strands against the side of her cheek while she is hung over the ledge.

He pounds her back again, but when that fails to do much other than leave a hand-shaped print on her skin, he wraps loose arms under her sternum, maneuvering his hands to hold her at just the perfect angle, her lull form making the attempt much more gradual and tiring. Finally, when his arms are hooked firmly in their rightful positions below her ribcage, he pulls upwards with great force. He does it again. And again.

And then the sound of a choked gurgle halts his movements, and only a second after that Lydia's hand is twitching and then she's awake. She lurches forward as bursts of water spout from her lips, the sensation similar to drowning all over again as her water-filled lungs forcibly empty themselves. Her chipped nails dig into the rock beneath her lurching body, searching for an anchor; something to hold onto to prevent her from losing it.

Somewhere along the way, Lydia wasn't sure how, her heaving eventually turned into hysterical sobbing. Once again, she was the scared little girl with monsters under her bed, the teenager on the verge of a mental breakdown because of her nightmares. She hadn't felt this utterly hopeless and taken advantage of since Peter roamed the secret places in her head and made her see and feel things that she couldn't even begin to understand were supernatural. It was the darkness that had once lurked beneath the surface of muddy water and it had risen until it was in plain view for only her to see. She could see evil, it was everywhere.

"Shh, its okay." Calvin was crushing her close to him. From a spectator's point of view, he probably looked like a man who almost lost the woman he loved, trying to find comfort in her breathing while simultaneously comforting her. It was eerie.

Lydia wanted to scream at him, to shove him away; but she was too weak; tired, and far too worried for what he might do next. She was shaking in his arms but it wasn't because she was cold.

She could only give in to her broken heart, her eyes bleeding tears as she miserably wailed and the throbbing in her head as difficult to ignore as an immense hole in the wall of her sanity. The wall that had been patched up so many times before; the evidence was there with each piece of gauze and tape disguising it. Lydia had to hide her broken walls before she accidentally let someone in.

It took a long time for her to calm down, hiccups fading into sniffles and quiet pain-filled moans until she finally found the strength to drag her aching body away from Calvin. He didn't fight her on this, just observing as she collapsed back against the ledge breathlessly.

His voice causes a whirling in her stomach, the sudden noise unexpected after he'd spent so long silent, letting her rest in his arms and trying to comfort her with gentle hands and hushing lips. "You wore yourself out."

It was questionable whether or not he was referring to her spout of crying or was actually blaming her for his volatile and near life-costing actions. Lydia was still horrified and unable to comprehend that he actually just drowned her. He held her underwater, not caring that she was screaming and choking and sucking down harsh amounts of water. It didn't even feel real, more like a nightmare that she was just waking from upon her revival. More than anything, Lydia was swept in a wave of terror. Every instinct inside of her was set to red alert, the little hairs on her arms protectively raised and her entire form quivering.

Lydia probably couldn't stop her teeth from chattering long enough to get the words out, and she wasn't even going to bother trying. As unpredictable as Calvin was, there was a good chance that anything she said was going to set him off anyway, and she couldn't deal with anymore of his violent outbursts. If being quiet and listening to him when he wanted her to was the way to keep him tame, than she would do it. If she had to stay away from Stiles… she'd do that to. As long as he was safe and not being remotely threatened by what should've been a weak "villain" to be beaten. He was just a human; his strength was nothing compared to Scott and Malia's, his dexterity and skill obsolete when contrasted with Kira's, and his brain miniscule beside Lydia and Stiles. So why was this so hard for her? Why was she so afraid?

Time passes, and Lydia can't be sure precisely how much, but the sun is just beginning to rise, assuring her that they've been here a while. Most of that time is spent with her thoughts questioning and deciding and reevaluating. For the life of her, she can't make a decision. She doesn't know what to do with Calvin. But she wants to go _home_. "I should probably take your kayak back to the shore. I'll get a two-seater and come back for you." Her voice is shredded with knives, courtesy of the period of crying she did, followed by a refusal to speak until now (being _drowned_may have also played a part). Immediately, she knew he was going to shoot down her suggestion and take it the wrong way.

Calvin's eyes narrow dangerously, pupils dilated as they focus on her face. His tone drops to an intimidating volume, "Given the probability of you actually coming back for me, I think _I'll _go get the two-seater."

Panic struck a chord inside of her. "Don't leave me here!" She blurted out.

"Hmph," Calvin snorts a short laugh, even though he clearly doesn't find anything even slightly humorous. He leans over her with a bent finger touching the small spot under her chin and Lydia does everything she can to avoid flinching, but it happens anyway. "Oh, Lydia." he sighs longingly, "I wouldn't do that to you."

She avoids his intense eyes, nervously staring at the farthest corner of the grotto, a dark shadow that she can't quite make out.

"Don't worry, kitten, I'll be back.."

"_Kitten_," Lydia reiterates thickly, disgusted.

He steeples his fingers thoughtfully, nonchalantly telling her that, "Cats hate the water." As if that was any kind of explanation.

Disbelief runs red in Lydia's veins and she outwardly fumes. Was he blaming her drowning on something as simple as _not liking water?_ He was trying to provoke her, and it was working. She glowers at him, her legs becoming tense where they're sloppily folded underneath her "It has nothing to do with hating water you-" She stops herself short, a spider-like tingling coursing over the top layer of the skin of her arms. Lydia's gaze drops in submission. It was best not to bring his temper back, not after what he did.

Calvin sighs, lowering himself to her level on the ground. "Poor thing, you must still be delirious. You hit your head pretty hard there," his eyes twinkled mischievously, the only evidence that he was aware of his own violent tendencies, his outbursts so sudden and unpredictable that Lydia was beginning to consider some very serious mental disorders. "Hopefully there's no lasting damage."

"If I was going to get hypoxemia or hypothermia it would have set in by now." she stares off into the distance. "I could still get pneumonia though. I guess it beats being dead."

Calvin's head reels back into his neck, taken aback by her bluntness.

Lydia shakes her head and tells him with a breathy croak, "Just go." _The sooner the better._

"Don't worry Lydia," Calvin husks, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of her still jaw. "I'll be back." His grin was vindictive as he added, "_Eventually_."

Her head lifted from her knee, her eyes bulging at him. But he didn't say anything. "Calvin!" Lydia called helplessly as he kayaked out of the cave and into the basking sunlight.

With every second he's gone, the painful throbbing in her chest is accompanied by one more thread of physical and emotional torment. After she's finally pulled her clothes back on over her bikini, she just starts unraveling and yanking out the string of her shirt's sleeve to take her pent up anxiety out on something. She can't allow herself to break down again; she can't throw herself screaming in this tiny little cave, not like she sometimes did in the privacy of her own room. It wasn't like her mother ever heard her; no one ever did.

_x-x-x_

When Stiles wakes up, he's seeing things a little clearer (or so he believes). The sun is shining just a little bit brighter than the moon had upon Malia and Calvin's spontaneous arrival last night, and sleeping on his thoughts had been a better idea than he considered it might be. There's a fresh wave of energy in the air today, and he can feel it on the edge of his tongue, the excitement squeezing his heart. Today is a new day, no... a new era. Because today was the first day since he and Lydia kissed.

Real kissing. He wasn't having a panic attack and she wasn't either. They were swimming in the ocean and laughing and smiling and even arguing a little, but there was nothing forced about it.

Stiles touches two fingers to his lips, because he can still feel her there. Maybe it's because he hasn't brushed his teeth yet.

The pep in his step remains as he puts on a clean pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt and it heightens when he finally brushes his teeth, because now he's another few steps closer to the moment he sees Lydia. They didn't bump in to each other in the bathroom this time, and with a small chuckle Stiles realized that she was probably still sleeping. Maybe he could sneak into her room and scare her awake… or he could just plant butterfly kisses along her neck until she rouses with a moan. Either way, she was going to be adorably bedraggled and sleepy, eyes half-open and her mouth parted with confusion. He liked plan with the kissing better, but it was going to have to wait until they'd actually discussed what they were to each other and what to do about the other people in their lives. Stiles Stilinski wasn't a cheater, and he wouldn't have kissed Lydia if he and Malia were an actual couple. But even though they weren't, there was still a lot of explaining to do, and a friend with benefits to be turned into nothing other than a friend.

And then there was Calvin. Their "relationship" was very strange and still new, so he couldn't understand Lydia's connection to him. Everything about Calvin rubbed Stiles the wrong way, but he knew it was probably just his jealousy getting the best of him. He was nothing but a gentleman toward Lydia, except for those times that he got irrationally irritable. Wanting to be friends with him was for no one other than Lydia and the sake of his friendship with her, and now that things between them were getting increasingly romantic he didn't see the need.

He wondered if Lydia was going to stay close to Calvin now that she was outwardly showing her feelings for someone else. Maybe he was thinking too far ahead. _Maybe he was overthinking the entire thing._

Stiles spit his toothpaste into a bush behind his tent, taking a few sips from his water bottle and gargling to repeat the movement. He was going to be perfectly fresh for the moment that he was most certainly _not_ going to wake Lydia up by kissing her neck. _Because that would be wrong_…

He took his first few steps toward her tent before the familiar sound of Scott's voice beckoned him away.

"Stiles!"

With a huff, the impatient teenager dragged his unwilling legs toward the center of the campsite where Scott was heaving a few backpacks.

"Scott, what are you doing?"

"Just want to get a head start on packing so that we can enjoy the rest of our day," he smiled broadly, admiring the pile of bags he'd tossed.

"I almost forgot we were leaving today." Stiles casually chuckled and noted, "I've been having such a good time."

Scott looked up with curiosity in his eyes. If the way his friend said it was telling, the goofy smile and stuttering heartbeat was a dead giveaway. "Uh-oh, what happened?" Apparently, Stiles had gotten himself into the good kind of trouble. The alpha would get this story out of the human of his pack one way or another.

Stiles wanted more than anything to tell Stiles the delicious details of his night, but he couldn't. Not until he and Lydia talked about it, first. It was an important conversation to have, and he wanted to get it done while he had the enthusiasm and rehearsed lines memorized in his head. He could repeat them in a mantra at this point.

_"Lydia, you're like no other girl_._"_

Scott observed the area, the body of water beside their campsite with scanning eyes. "Something's weird," he murmured to himself.

_"And I think last night was an opportunity for us to finally get what we want. I think that we finally might want the same thing."_

The alpha's eyes narrowed on something in the distance. He cupped a hand over his eyes just to see through the rays of sun blocking his vision.

_"I want you… and for some insane reason beyond my undeserving comprehension there's a chance you might want me too."_

Scott could finally see what was setting off his instinct, something nestled into the gentle sloshing water.

_"And instead of just wanting each other… maybe we could… have more than that. You could have me and… Sure, I realize that you've always kind of had me but maybe this time... I could have you too?"_

"Isn't that Lydia's boat?"

Stiles was viciously torn from his fantasy in a split second. It took a moment to free himself from make believe-land and come back to the real world, but when he did he turned his eyes in the same direction that Scott was staring off into with concern edged along his brow.

And right there floating emptily toward them was a bright yellow kayak with a chip in its rubber.

Stiles faltered forward foggily, his heart beginning to race as the implications of the kayak drifting in their direction _empty_ tangled like webs in his brain. The only thing Stiles needed right now was to know where Lydia was. And he needed to know **now**.

"Lydia!" He trudges through the shallow water, heavy against the soggy ends of his jeans as he rushes toward the kayak, splashing liquid onto his shirt as his hands took hold of the sides. It was of course clear of any trace of the banshee, obvious enough from when he was still on land. Kayaks were small and only meant to hold someone sitting up. If he couldn't see her from the shore, she most definitely wasn't going to be there when he got closer. Fear usually lacked rationality and he was so befuddled that he didn't think it through.

He drags the kayak back to the dirt anyway, leaving it there as he turns his alarmed eyes to Scott. Seeing that he's just as uncertain and bewildered as him, Stiles stomps his tense figure toward the only person that would actually know. During his stride, he runs straight into Malia's shoulder.

"Stiles?"

He ignores her and continues his journey, but then it occurs to him that he could ask her something, so he whips back around. "Have you seen Lydia since last night?" The question is hurried, and the way his hands are shaking at her indicate that he wants her to answer just as quickly.

"Uh.. no. I don't think she came back."

Stiles tears off toward the tent the boys were staying in and checks for Calvin, but of course he isn't there, and now his worry has shifted into something a little more desperate. He can hear Malia behind him, but he continues his search as he goes for the women's tent next.

"Stiles, what's going on!?" Malia slaps a hand to her forehead as she watches him move in a flurry. "Talk to me."

"Calvin's back," Scott declares loudly from the edge of the water. He was ready to find out exactly what was going on, because clearly he'd missed a lot last night. He didn't understand the reason behind Stiles freak out or why Lydia was considered missing. It was possible that she and Calvin were off doing their own thing, and he was thankful that he wasn't the only one left out of the loop when Kira came to his side with the same observing determination to figure out what the issue was as he.

They were going to have to wait, because just as Calvin was climbing out of his kayak Stiles was treading toward him with a tightened demeanor in his pounding pace, a matching indignant spark in the center of his eyes.

"_Oh_ boy," Kira muttered. She didn't have to be psychic to see that something not-good was about to happen.

Stiles was back in the shallow of the water, reaching for Calvin before he was even fully near him, his hands boldly raveling fists into Calvin's shirt without the slightest hesitation. Between gritted teeth he tugged him closer and demanded, "_Where's Lydia_!?" With a raucous crackle overtaking his voice; it was evident that he wasn't going to take anything other than a direct answer.

"I'll give you one chance to get off me before I put you down," Calvin confounded mightily with a snarl to boot, unmoving in the other teen's grasp.

"Just tell me where she is! _Why_ didn't she take her boat back last night!?"

Calvin finally reacts, swinging two arms up between Stiles' and smacking his violently away. "Fucking chill out! She's back at the cave."

Stiles is placated just a little bit, but the red mist is still settled over his rigid shoulders and tense jaw. She was safe, that was what mattered. He wasn't finished here yet, though. "You left her there?"

"We ended up spending the night there," Calvin replied smoothly, a smug smirk accenting his lips slightly upwards. "Her kayak unhooked from the ledge and kind of sailed away in the middle of the night, so I came back to get a two-seater." His eyes darken. "Is that a _problem_?"

Stiles blinks, folding his arms across his chest in embarrassment. He was starting to feel idiotic. "No... It's not." He was still caught on the part about Lydia and Calvin spending the entire night there. What reason could she have to possibly do that? His arms cross, concern for her replaced with anger; anger for being worried about her in the first place when she was with Calvin all night. But Stiles has to give her the benefit of the doubt and let her explain her actions. For all he knew she was just trying to break up with him and he didn't take it well, so she spent the majority of the night comforting him. It was possible, and he was going to hold on to the shred of hope that said so.

Everyone settled down as Calvin brushed past them in search of someone who could help him find a larger boat. Stiles was sitting on a log by the water, waiting for Calvin to bring Lydia back whilst Scott and Kira "discretely" whispered about him a couple of yards away. He didn't pay them any mind because he couldn't explain his own actions either.

He didn't know what he was thinking, going after Calvin like that. He had no reason to suspect that Calvin was responsible for whatever he thought had happened. When Stiles saw Lydia's kayak drifting lonesome in the water it sent him into a haze of blind worry, and when he could find no one to blame or hold responsible he automatically decided Calvin had done something. It wasn't good of him to think that way, he didn't want to be the guy that assumed, especially when Calvin had enough to deal with. He was in a new school, being bullied by jocks and living in a dirty little house with his older brother who was probably just as strange if not worse, and here he was, (probably) about to get dumped by the one girl that made his time in Beacon Hills worth it. Stiles had to sympathize with someone in his position, even if their new friendship was a little forced.

He saw Scott approaching before the alpha had even moved his feet.

"Hey." Scott dropped on the log beside him. He studied his friend's face for a long seven seconds before he jumped right into the problem at hand. "What's going on, Stiles?"

Stiles lets out a quiet sigh and shakes his head at the dirt below his feet.

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"I _do_ want to talk about it, especially with my brother." Stiles cracked his knuckles, shuffling his hands together. "But I can't. Not until I talk to Lydia."

Scott nods smoothly, rubbing a hand along the stubble of his jaw with a question on his tongue.

Stiles can see that. "What?"

"I don't know, it's just…" Scott frowns as he finally asks, "She's okay, right?"

The dark haired human weighs this heavily. If he was being honest with himself, he'd admit that he was concerned about the banshee. More than concerned, he was frightened for her. The way she spoke about her hallucinations sometimes reminded him of his mother in her more delirious states, when things were getting worse in her head. The things Lydia was sometimes seeing had no explanation behind them like before. They were completely random and meaningless, just meant to scare her. It was terrifying when they made the discovery that someone had been in her room, someone had replaced Allison's last memory for her with a bloody dress, one that belonged to Allison that Lydia wore to her funeral. Hell, Stiles was still waiting for his father to get back to him about that.

He felt like Lydia was in danger, not from someone else but herself. Ever since he did a rewatch of 90's movies last week he's been considering that it was a "Fight Club" kind of deal. That maybe Lydia was the one responsible for the blood, like she had soaked it into the dress in some fugue state. It was an intrusive thought that kept stabbing into the back of his brain every time something strange happened around Lydia. Every time she got that faraway look in her eye but told him nothing was wrong.

"These days?" Stiles looks Scott right in the eye. "I just feel lucky when she's not crying."

x-x-x

By the time Calvin has returned with Lydia, everyone is set to go. Last minute bags are being packed into the car, tents are being folded up and everyone is triple checking to make sure they have all of their things.

When Stiles spots their boat, he tosses his bag to Scott and jogs toward the shoreline. He had the time to think over every possible scenario and outcome. He had no idea what Lydia was thinking, and if she'd spent the day thinking about him like he had with her. He was hoping he would find some indication to her feelings by reading her expression, but it was just as inscrutable as he feared; and on top of that she looked exhausted. He wanted to hug her and apologize for leaving her with a drunk dumbass that lost her boat.

"Hey!" His enthusiasm was a little forced. "I'm glad you're okay." Her eyes fail to meet him for a full ten seconds. "I mean you are, right?"

Lydia remains quiet, gaze lingering over Stiles shoulder where Calvin was watching her, waiting for her response. She didn't know what to do anymore. She could tell Stiles the truth, she could tell Scott and they could help. But what could they do? Werewolf strength wasn't called for in this situation, and she wasn't about to have her life invaded by police asking her questions about this _abuser_ and eventually being stuck in a courtroom having Calvin's lawyer call her a deceptive little girl that wanted attention. She couldn't go down that endless path and she couldn't put her mother through all of that. And she especially couldn't risk the chance that Calvin would hurt Stiles.

If Lydia was going to take this guy down, she was going to have to do it on her own, and he couldn't have any inkling how and when she would do it. If she was going to be building any sort of plan, she was going to first need to get through this emotional conversation and get back to Beacon Hills; because she was going to speak to Forrest and get a closer look at Calvin's bedroom; when Calvin isn't there, of course.

The banshee swallows hard and she wishes she had the courage to get through this without crying, but she could feel her nose burning and her eyes stinging.

"Lydia?" Stiles whispers worriedly.

"Last night was a mistake," Lydia shudders, her voice low and firm to prevent her emotion from leaking through. "It shouldn't have happened, I'm sorry."

Stiles stares at her in disbelief, waiting for her to pull back with a charming smile and tell him she's just telling a cruel joke. There was no way that she was serious after everything they said and did, not after she kissed him the way she had and clutched his body closer.

"What are you talking about? Why?" His brow hangs low, pink lips parted like he's misunderstanding.

"I'm with Calvin."

He grunts his frustration with this heartbreaking anger-inducing female who's been using his heart as a drum since he started learning how to write in cursive. "Bull-_shit_, Lydia! He's not your boyfriend, you said so yourself last night."

"And then when you left we had a lot of time to," Lydia runs out of breath so she sucks in a sharp intake of cold air. She knew that he would put up a fight, and she wasn't sure how she was going to stop herself from dropping every bit of responsibility she was supposed to have and telling him how right he is. She's breathing hard as she picks up where she left off, " – to _talk_ and – and we realized that…I realized that my feelings for him are…"

"Are what?" Stiles snapped, betrayal freshly cutting into his heart and icing his vocal chords. "Stronger than your feelings for me?"

"Keep it down there are werewolves nearby," Lydia says under her breath.

"I don't wanna keep it down, _you_ keep it down!" Stiles chomps down on his lower lip, running a hand through his slick head of hair and taking a few sloppy steps away from her. He wouldn't feel as crappy about shouting at her if he wasn't standing close enough to smell her, even if her scent was composed of mostly just salt water. "Why are you doing this?"

He speaks as if she's enjoying it, like her cruelty was meant for him. She can't blame him for that.

"Last night I told you I didn't want to be yanked around like a marionette, you told me you would never do that to me." He jabs the air between them, his expression withering and angry. "You made it sound like I was different, special or something." Stiles scoffs unforgivingly. The knife cuts deep when he grates out, "You don't care you just like being in control."  
It's a phrase that will repeat endlessly in her head for the next seven days. It will repeat in his cold voice that tried so hard to mask the hurt, a punishment that she deserves for doing this to him yet again. For doing exactly what she promised she wouldn't. He's better off with Malia.

Lydia decides to simplify the matter, ignoring the scratching in her throat as a well-practiced illusion of calm broke over her facade. "I liked kissing you, and I'm sorry that you took it for more than it was." As a hiccupped sob makes its way half up her throat and turns into a lump, she recognizes that she has to get away from this discussion before it tears her apart.

When she turns to walk away, Stiles' fingers graze the top of her arm as if to stop her, but they're gone just as quickly as they had appeared. There is nothing left to say.

Lydia focuses on the task of changing her clothes because she can't think about what just happened or she'll lose her mind. She can't bear the very thought of going through a five hour car ride back to Beacon Hills, trapped with the belittling Calvin and a hurt Stiles and everyone else when she can hardly stand her _own_ existence. So she stumbles in the direction of the nearest bathroom with a bag of fresh clothing in hand, feeling the eyes of the boys responsible for her aching heart watch her with burning thoughts until she was hidden behind the trees along the path.

Stiles was not going to drop it. He wasn't going to let it go just like that, it wasn't that simple. No way did she completely change her mind after a couple of mindless hours with a wasted loser. If anything, it should've been more of a revelation for what a good idea it was to dump his ass now.

He knew he'd regret this, but his legs were moving steadily toward Calvin before her fully realized it. He'd been watching Lydia walk away too, he saw him.

"Hey!" He calls roughly, feet skidding to a halt in front of him. "What did you and Lydia talk about after we left last night?"

Calvin rolls his tongue over the roof of his mouth, giving Stiles a once over. "I can't see how that's your business. But while you're here, there's something I've just been itching to ask you." His arms fold over, his chin lifting toward the air with arrogance. "Were you trying to put moves on Lydia before I got there? You two seemed pretty _cozy_, and I thought that was _weird_ since you told me you wanted to be friends."

Stiles is apprehensive. He wants to shove it in Calvin's face that Lydia's lips were all over his last night, that her desire was just as aggressive as his had been. He never would have taken things as far as they'd gone if it hadn't been for her enthusiastic response, which only left him even more befuddled upon her rejection minutes ago. He has to know what Calvin could have said to change the tune she sang so shamelessly into the early rise of the sun, but at the same time he doesn't want to get her in trouble. It was stupid. _He _was stupid; for defending this heartbreaking banshee after she pulled the rug from beneath his sturdy feet, leaving him confused and sad on his knees.

"We weren't doing anything," he conveys, despite the brutal burst in his windpipe just to say the words.

Surprisingly enough, Calvin accepts that as an answer. "I don't blame you for coming at me when I showed up without Lydia. You saw her boat… empty. I probably would have thought the same thing," he confesses with guilty eyes.

Stiles is taken aback. He'd been preparing himself for a real physical confrontation here. He had the full intention of barreling over here to tell Calvin off, and in the middle of it probably tell him about Lydia saying Calvin wasn't her boyfriend. Just to piss him off. But the dark haired teenager was being strangely understanding and it was only making Stiles feel worse.

"You would have?" He blinks a few times, coming to terms with how this topic of discussion is so calmly going. Rubbing a hand over his neck, he manages a genuine thank you before Calvin is gone, and he hadn't even noticed his abrupt exit until another moment later. _That was a weird encounter._

_x-x-x_

It wasn't until they stopped at their second and final rest stop for bathroom breaks and snack pile-ups that Lydia tries talking to Stiles. Even if they can't be together, she wants to do everything in her power to make sure he isn't hurt by this. Getting through to him was a longshot, but if she could explain that it had nothing to do with him, that she found him to be incredible but wanted to be with Calvin… No. There was no way that she could put it that wouldn't cause him more pain. The only reasonable thing she could think to do was apologize, and even then it was improbable that Stiles would listen to it. But she had to try.

Lydia waited until Calvin was in the restroom to say something to him where he was currently filling the car with gas, the pump held loosely in his hands as he shakes the hose, trying to find the right angle in the fill spout to get every penny's worth that he just spent.

She came up behind him carefully, sliding her flip-flops along the dirt of the ground until she was beside him, feeling unusually small without her heels. It was unfortunate because her wedges gave her a confidence that flats and sandals did not, leaving her vulnerable and miniscule next to the sprouting and more than likely irate teenager.

He detected her presence immediately, his eyes very briefly flicking in her direction before returning to the pump like she was never there.

The only sign that he saw her was the tension in his shoulders that wasn't there a moment ago, his stature more rigid where it was previously awkward and fumbling.

Lydia rocks on the heels of her feet uncomfortably, trying to work up the courage to say something or at the very least figure out what the hell she wanted to say in the first place. She's sucking her bottom lip into her mouth like toddler with their thumb, a tactic of removing anxiety and feeling something other than worry.

"Hi." It comes out raspy, so she clears her throat. It's a good way to fill the silence following her comment.

His lips twist, expression unreadable.

Lydia tries again, faltering every so often as she becomes more embarrassed and humiliated as the quiet seconds wear on. "I…I just wanted to come over here to – to…" She closes her eyes tightly, arms flopping pathetically at her sides. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Stiles tightens his grip on the pump and allows his mouth to part, still refusing to look her way. "What does _that_ mean?"

He wants to know if she's taking back everything she said about not wanting to be with him, and that fact stings Lydia more than she thought possible. She visibly flinches. "It just means that I'm sorry… And that I wish things were different."

The meter runs out and Stiles rips the pump from the car's spout, his force confounding his actual feelings. He shoves it back in its rightful place. Only then will he turn his attention to Lydia, his body shifting to face her. But his eyes were dark and furious. Hurt.

"Lydia," he breathes with frustration grating through her name, his teeth pressed together. His head leans forward more, to be closer to her height so that she understands the depth of his warning. "_Don't_ talk to me."

He leaves Lydia in the dust, climbing into the car to find his seat beside Malia, where she'd been waiting. Everyone else was still inside the convenience store.

Stiles demand was enough to tell Lydia that _no_, their friendship was not okay. He was not going to forgive her, and she couldn't hold that against him, even if it really fucking hurt. Lydia had to remind herself that whatever she was feeling was nothing compared to the betrayal Stiles had just experienced, courtesy of her stupidity and inability to make good decisions. How could she already be regretting her choice to keep him safe? She couldn't be selfish about this. He was one of the most important people in her life and she couldn't let anything happen to him.

Stiles was in the car holding Malia's hand, trying to ignore how wrong it felt. Not only was he feeling incredibly guilty about letting Lydia worm back into his heart like she had the night before, but Malia didn't know about it. He could tell himself over and over again that they weren't a couple, and that it wouldn't be fair of her to get angry, but it would only make him a hypocrite to think that way. He felt like a terrible person because Malia was a nice girl that was just a little bit new to the way the world worked today and that was okay. She still deserved a boyfriend, someone to take care of her like she expected _him_ to.

He could still offer her that. He could be there for her and in return she could be there for him. Malia could blanket the heartache that Lydia left behind, and maybe he could even fall in love with her. Malia hadn't hurt him like Lydia had, she hadn't lied to him and whispered sweet nothings into his ear just to turn around and take it all away.

Malia's eyes trailed over Stiles fingers where they touched hers. "I'm sorry I flipped out before. It isn't exactly fair of me to get mad at you for kissing Lydia." His confused eyes meet hers, wondering how she knew. "You smell like her." His eyes are guilty now, returning back to their hands. "Don't worry I'm not mad about it. You said so yourself, we can date other people." Her tone indicates that although she doesn't agree with it, she understands. "…We're not together…" she sighs sadly.

Stiles studies her face, searching for hint of something that told her she was lying, but he only found ingenuous innocence. He licks his lips and says the first thing that comes to his mind. "What if we were?"

Her head raises. "What?"

Stiles scoots forward in his seat to get closer to her, both hands squeezing hers. "What if we _were_?" His heart is stuttering along with his words. "I could be your boyfriend."

She misses the fact that he nearly winces when he speaks, but smiles softly. "Really?"

He owes her this much, and there's a real chance she might surprise him. Her ability to make him feel like the most desirable man in the world was definitely a positive of their coupling, and even if they lacked substance, they could find it along the way if they were to have a real relationship. Something that was merely sex could become something real. He could fall in love with this girl if he really tried.

"I deserve someone who's going to treat me right," Stiles says with conviction. "And so do you."

Malia's smile overtakes her whole face. "You finally realized that Lydia isn't good for you?"

He swallows hard, his eyes glassing over as he looks out the tinted window where he can see the back of Lydia's head. She's still standing by the gas pump, her arms wrapped around herself and the wind tossing her bright hair.

"Yeah," he whispers.

* * *

**A/N: I know, I know you guys hate me. I'll make it up to you at some point, cross my heart. In the next chapter we will see Lydia trying to investigate Calvin's background a little more.**


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